


Marry Your Best Friend

by thejeeperswife



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Cheating, Cussing, Death, Denial of Feelings, Depression, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Growing Old Together, Growing Up Together, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lies, Love Confessions, Lyrium Addiction, M/M, Mabari, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Mystery, Past, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Pranks, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Redemption, Regrets, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Smut, Soulmates, Suicide Attempt, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, denied love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 119,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejeeperswife/pseuds/thejeeperswife
Summary: Cullen’s father told him some encouraging life advice:  marry your best friend.  With five mischievous childhood best friends, he imagined someday he would put that guidance to good use.  However, a tragedy during his high school senior year nearly destroys the group’s comradery, and they all agree to never date one another to avoid love shattering their friendship.For the first time in eleven years, the friends all live together in Haven again and are as close as ever.  A marriage proposal and a discovered skeleton suddenly forces the group to reevaluate their lives, specifically what happened that nearly drove them apart.  Heavy memories, regrets, shame, and lies consume the friends, while choices since high school catch up with them.  Current events bring back their sorrowful pasts with the potential to either rip them apart or finally realize what they denied for far too long.Story Theme Songs:~”Song for Someone” by Vertical Horizon~”Did I Say That Out Loud?” by Barenaked Ladies~”The Chain” by Fleetwood Mac~"No Light, No Light" by Florence + the Machine





	1. Why

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING! TRIGGER WARNING!  
> I have always wanted to write this story, but could never get it started. In the last few days, it has rolled it out like water since I thought about using these characters. This story is not for the lighthearted, but there will smut and happiness throughout the whole tale. Very displeasing topics will be discussed, thus one reason for the explicit rating and the multiple Archive warnings. I promise everything will be resolved and holds purpose. I just it was right to warn you all.
> 
> Story utilizes existing characters and conversations from Dragon Age: Inquisition and Dragon Age: Origins, all owned by Bioware and EA
> 
> Very loosely based on real life events.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> Following chapter contains referenced high school sex, tragic death, attempted suicide, and pregnancy scare. You have been warned.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Valentine's Day" by Linkin Park  
> (I like giving my stories theme songs that inspire me while writing. For the chapter playlists, click here on [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLw4onCkm8zQZAc1er00KAYnk59SN4g1gg) and here for [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/thejeeperswife/playlist/1gkhLu4SsKek0ncNntVf26?si=3cUP4_24SBuRkQDsniwvVw)!)
> 
> Make sure to subscribe and follow the playlists and story for new updates!

Cullen’s dad gave him simple life advice a long time ago that stuck with him:  marry your best friend.  His parent’s marriage proved that this was solid guidance that he himself could utilize someday.  His mother and father were high school sweethearts, inseparable since they met when they were sixteen.  No one denied that it was a match blessed by the Maker, a romance everyone wished to achieve in their lifetimes, but rarely found.  Everyone remarked watching them walk down the street as teens they would get married.  Their friends and families watched them grow, _evolve_ together into the people everyone knows today.  They never regretted dating other people, convinced they would find anyone better than each other.  They knew the odds of their relationship working after high school graduation and college were against them.  When they told others about how they met and fell in love, people stated they only saw such instances in smutty novels or romance comedy movies.  Thirty-six years and counting of marriage demonstrated that they were truly soulmates.  Over that time, they had four children, the textbook example of a large rural family living in western Ferelden.  Their partnership showed their children what a happy family truly looked like so they too can achieve happiness.

Those thirty-six years were not always perfect of course.  They fought multiple times over the years.  One specific fight almost broke off their engagement three months before the wedding.  The happily married couple nearly divorced when Cullen was seven when the farm fell on hard times and his father had to go work in Honnleath to make ends meet.  They suffered severe obstacles throughout their lives, including a Blight outbreak and his mother surviving breast cancer.  Cullen’s father always said that life was filled with obstacles and each could easily break a love apart, but true love faced them together as partners and friends.

Their romancing did not stop at the wedding altar like most people believe.  Cullen remembered seeing the dozen roses his father brought home on random days just because or how his mother put Mia in charge when their parents went on dates.  They agreed never to go to bed angry even if it meant they stayed up all night upset.  Cullen and his siblings tried to understand their unique language that never made sense to anyone else but them.  There is not a day Cullen does not hear they tell each other they love one another at least once.  

Marriages take constant work and understanding, which is why Cullen’s father advised him to marry his best friend.  Your best friend was the person you called in any emotional state, sharing happy or depressing news.  They sat with you all night when you suffered with the flu or bought all the beer for the party because you were covering the pizza.  They understood you better than anyone else, never needing to explain yourself.  They just _know_.Friendship requires constant work and understanding as well, but relationships and marriage added the component of love, the most difficult emotion of all.  It may cause the most uplifting or dreadful feelings.  Jealousy might rise when trust is not established.  An insult during a fight hurts ten times more in a relationship versus a friendship.  However, having that person beside you, holding your hand, and whispering in your ear warms the heart and soul.  No wonder bards sang about love more than friendship.

Marry your best friend.

_Well…_

For Cullen, that was a quite a problem because his group of best friends vowed never to date one another.  To those who hear the rule do not understand why they declared it in high school until they told _their_ story.  One attempted romantic relationship and the sequential chaos and anguish it created led to this simple, but quite troublesome limitation.  It established a measure to preserve their invaluable friendships.  When proclaimed, it was a willfully given stipulation:  forgo a potential love affair to avoid the downfall if it does not work.

Evelyn ‘Evie’ Trevelyan, Alistair Theirin, Maya Amell, Nathaniel ‘Nate’ Howe, Astrid Cousland, and Cullen Rutherford grew up together in Haven, Ferelden.  How one another met depended on when the toddlers arrived in the small town nestled beside the Frostback Mountains.  Astrid and Nate’s parents were college roommates from Highever and moved their families to the area to escape the big city life in Denerim.  When Alistair’s father died, his mother, Fiona, moved she and her one year old son so she and Maya’s father could collaborate on scientific research while teaching at the privately-funded, excusive Skyhold University.  Cullen’s father bought a huge plot of land outside town from Evie’s father, a rich mine owner who wanted to live closer to his operations throughout the extensive mountain range.  The children met when Evie played violin and he sang in choir during Chantry Sunday School.

Haven was a small town of about two-thousand people, so everyone knew everyone else somehow.  Many people were neighbors and allowed their kids to play in their front lawns every morning until the streetlights came on at dusk.  That is how Evie and Alistair met.  He saw Evie’s sister picking on her from his porch across the street, stomped over, and threw a mud pie in Patricia’s face.  Nate’s father worked on Cullen’s family farm as part of the convict rehabilitation program.  (Rendon Howe was jailed for five years for tax evasion, hence why the family wanted to get away from Denerim and start anew.  Although, the ex-convict never got his act together.)  During the summer, Nate joined his father on the farmer to play with Cullen’s siblings.  Maya, the youngest girl in the huge Amell clan, came to Astrid’s father physician’s office with the chicken pox.  Officially, all six kids met when they were admitted for the contagious disease and bounded over juice boxes and scratching.

By first grade, ‘the Pox’s,’ were inseparable, named such by Haven’s residents for their shared childhood disease and their high jinks.  Evie thought up the crazy antics and convinced Nate to help her because the kid got bored faster than a buzzing hummingbird.  Alistair got roped in unaware of the consequences—a trusting soul.  Maya would follow behind the growing group quiet as a Chantry mouse.  She secretly giggled behind her long blond hair and pouted when Cullen attempted to convince them all it was not a good idea.  Somehow, Cullen ended up doing all the heavy lifting to pull off the stunt.  Lastly, Astrid convinced the parents—and later the police—to not punish them once the whole thing fell apart using her poise and eloquent reasoning. 

All throughout elementary school, Haven held on for dear life, nervously waiting to hear about the group’s latest activities.  Maker, most local shops threw them out if just two of the six kids showed up together, knowing the other four were not far behind.  None of the crew’s siblings were spared from pranks and tricks, especially if one mistreated a member.  It is easier to count how many bones Alistair _has not_ broken.  Nate will never play goalie again during soccer matches.  Most people never understood why the whole group burst out laughing when someone asks why Astrid’s front tooth is chipped horribly.  Cullen still cannot feel anything in his right ring finger.  The whole group ducks when Evie grumbles her eyebrow hair does not cover her deep scar.  All of it made Cullen’s childhood memorable and blissful.

The town thought puberty might simmer down the group.  The girls no longer had cooties, but changing bodies very different from their child forms.  The guys’ voices cracked and groaned to the point the girls called them frogs.  The girls suddenly all hated the guys one week a month; their systems biologically in sync quickly reminding the boys why Andraste was burned at the stake.  That alone led to the first rule in the group:  all the boys will not tease or ask if the girls were ‘on the rag’ during their monthly visitors.  If they did, that guy will get kicked in the balls by all three young ladies _twice_.  The last bit was added when Nate could not keep his mouth shut once, doubling down on his perversion.  During those years, the crew considered each other siblings, finding dating one another would be too weird and scary, particularly when the guys did not believe in deodorant.

The awkwardness shifted during high school.  Puberty was more familiar then, no longer this transformation from children to adolescents, but teenagers to adults.  High school first molds you into the person you will be for the rest of your life, while college finalizes that transition.  College might provide the experiences that will shape your mind, body, and soul forever, but it is high school when a person erases childhood opinions and listens to their emotional hormones like an idiot. 

Out of the whole crew, the two teens that reached that hormonal breakpoint first were Cullen and Maya, which was a huge surprise since Cullen still cannot speak to a woman he likes without falling his face first.  His nickname ‘lobster’ applied to his bashful appearance during such interactions.  Alistair might be the group’s buffoon, but his brand of stumbling and crude puns makes him charming and alluring.  There were multiple occasions where he would text the crew to save him from crowds of college-age women swamping him after one of his mother’s classes.  One specific time, Cullen thought it would be cheeky to say he and Alistair were dating, but it backfired when all the women loved them both _more_.  Nate tried the tactic once and got punched in both eyes.  Of course, the girls filmed the shenanigans.

Maya developed first among the girls, keeping her shy and meek persona while her body became the center of all the boys locker room talk.  She was the ideal high school girlfriend that any guy would love to introduce to his mother.  She was smart, kind, and pleasant, smiling everywhere she went like the world was a paradise.  Everyone stated she should be a nurse when she grew up.  She had the best bedside manner when one of them was sick.  Maya made the best homemade chicken noodle soup, the temperature _just_ right to not burn your tongue or disgustingly lukewarm.

Maybe it was their awkwardness and unfamiliarity with love that encouraged the meek girl and the bashful guy to try and date.  At the time, the crew observed they were great together.  Astrid spoke first that everyone caught them glancing at one another across a room or unable to say anything without blushing.  All of the friends had dated at least once throughout the years, but it was never with one another.  The other friends encouraged the romance, a sign that they meant more to one another than just close friends or non-blooded siblings. 

The friends never registered the consequences.  The main reason why all those other relationships failed was because the said boy/girlfriend was not just dating one of them, but the whole clan.  The person had to pass the crew’s standards or suffer severe wrath.  Alistair remarked a seer once advised if a girlfriend wanted to be his lover, they have to get along with his friends.  Astrid smacked the buffoon upside the head, remarking that was a Spice Girl lyric not some wise man.  Nate and Cullen asked for his man card.

When Evie mentioned this point, everyone replied that is why this will be perfect.  Who better to work out like Cullen’s parents than a romantic relationship between one another?  However, no one remembered the other negative consequences love brought, only seeing the cute and warming aspects.  The girls gossiped and squealed about the perfect dates to the movies—when Nate and Astrid was not throwing popcorn from the backrow or Evie and Alistair mocking about Cullen’s inability to dance at Homecoming.  Nate, always the pervert, continuously nudged Cullen to try something physical that would send the teen into flushed shock.  Maya would innocently ask why Cullen could not look her in the eye while Alistair and Evie rolled with laughter, Nate kept whispering in Cullen’s ear, and Astrid giving everyone a sex education lecture. 

The crew never considered all the dreadful aspects to love and why they all seem to get over their exes after only one night of puffy eyes, lockpicking Evie father’s liquor cabinet, and playing strip Wicked Grace.  Astrid’s nylon undies still grace the Haven High’s flagpole.  None of the adolescents knew about the growing jealousy when a girlfriend caught her boyfriend talking to one of his female mates or the need to side with their best friend during a couple’s argument.  Most of all, all six people never realized how _awkward_ and troublesome would make everything following a break up.  That meant one drunk night drawing dicks all over Nate’s passed out face will not heal the open wounds.

If Cullen just listened to Evie and admitted he no longer felt the same way about Maya their senior year maybe things would have not ended as badly as they did.  The eighteen year old wanted to be just friends again, but did not have the balls to end the relationship.  He wanted to return to the life they all had prior to this grand experiment.  That carefree bliss no longer existed, forever blackened by the chaos that followed.

What led to Cullen realizing his changed feelings definitely did not help.  By the time the pregnancy scare occurred, Cullen and Maya had been an item for over a year.  The couple were no longer shy and apprehensive about their relationship.  They expressed their emotions physically and privately as each other’s first sexual partners.  It occurred over the summer break, while Cullen assisted his father on the farm and did not get to see Maya as often after the night the condom broke.  Stupidly, the young man thought no news was truly good news.  Cullen did not learn about the scare until Astrid assured him Maya was not pregnant.  At least one of them remembered sex education and did not laugh during the whole ‘birds and the bees’ talk.  None of the parents knew the couple was sexually active or Astrid would have advocated Maya be put on birth control sooner.  Her father was the town family doctor and secretly helped when Maya told her best friend she was two weeks late.  Dr. Cousland concluded she was late because of anxiety and stress from the whole situation.  To this day, the man still glares at Cullen.  The physician swore he would not notify Maya’s family, especially since her parents were devote Andrastians and did not believe in birth control. 

By the time Cullen discovered what happened, Astrid sat the whole crew down and gave the longest mother hen lecture about responsibility.  She nearly castrated Cullen and threatened to kill them both if they put the group through that again.  The whole experience made the young man take a look at himself and reevaluate everything he envisioned for his life.  If it ended up Maya was pregnant, he would have proposed and taken culpability.  Luckily, she was not, but Cullen realized he could not see himself marrying Maya and that made him physically sick.  This was his high school sweetheart and best friend just like his parents, and he did not want to marry her?  For the life of him, Cullen could not understand why!

A major fight between Cullen and Maya explained his sickening feeling.  He asked her repeatedly why she never told him.  She replied with her own question about why he never called her and ask if she was well.  Cullen stated he was working the farm like he had been since he was six year old.  Just the summer before, Maya sat and watched him work so they could be near one another, two friends who just started dating two months before.  Maya huffed and crossed her arms in disgust and never gave him an answer to his question.

The senior partly understood why he never wanted to marry Maya.  She never voiced her feelings and emotions, always assuming people could read her mind.  Maya allowed people to walk over her so not to rock the boat.  That need for protection was one reason Cullen fell in love with her.  He always wanted to help people, and he felt the need to shield Maya from the world’s craziness.  However, Maya never spoke when something annoyed her or why she was sad, especially if it dealt with her and Cullen’s relationship.  Cullen never knew where he stood with her.  He relied heavily on Astrid, Maya’s voice, to tell him when he screwed up or forgot an important event.  His parents demonstrated that relationships require open communication by both parties.  One reason why his parents never divorced was because they recognized they were not talking anymore.  They felt like they spoke two different languages and visited marriage counseling to understand one another again.  Maya made communication impossible, believing Cullen should be able to read her mind and heart.

That’s why Cullen appreciated Evie.

Maya and Evie were opposites in many ways.  While Maya was coy and always kind, Evie was explosive and always told everyone what she thought of them, blunt and expressive.  There was no dancing on eggshells on what she thought of a person.  The woman had no filter, a common Free Marcher trait that Orlesians found quaint.  No one asked her if they looked fat in a specific dress or if a guy was cute.  The crew never told her secrets because she could not keep her mouth shut, especially if she did not agree with the group’s decision to keep said fact a secret.  Besides, she still figured out secrets because she observed and watch everyone when not running her mouth.  If one of the guys wanted a cushioned opinion, they called Astrid.  If they wanted the facts straight and honest, Evie was the best friend to call. 

“Do you love her?”  Evie bluntly asked, her feet propped up on a crate of corn while Cullen loaded the farm truck with picked crops one specific autumn day.

Cullen threw her look, meeting her bright green eyes as she waited for his answer.  “I…I don’t know.  I did before, but now it is unclear.  I don’t know why I just can’t see us together anymore…”

Evie sighed, rolling her head around her shoulders.  “Well, don’t keep dating her if you don’t feel the same anymore.  It’s that simple.”

“Is it though?”  Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.  “We’ve all gotten into the rhythm that Maya and I are an item.  The whole crew just accepts it now.  Heck, the whole town.  Can we just go back to being friends?  Can’t the crew revert back to how it was before?  Maybe I am just doubting like I’m doubting going to Kinloch.”

Evie blinked a few times.  “Kinloch?  I thought you were set for basic training next summer right after graduation.  What happened to GI Rutherford?”

Cullen sat down the truck bed and sighed.  “Maya wants me to go to Kinloch Hold College with her.  She keeps saying soldiers kill people, not protect them.  She always remarks that nurses heal not harm.  She doesn’t see that I have always wanted this.  I see being a templar as a duty-bound, honorable goal that can lead to some great opportunities.  She can pay her way through college because she has the grades and scholarships.  The only class I don’t have a C in is history.  Besides, I see how much money my parents have and how the farm isn’t producing as much anymore.  Despite the numerous times my mom tells me they can support me through college, I know that money will go farther with Rosalie.  As the youngest, they might not be able to send her by then.  I can go through the GI Bill after serving, if I want to go at all.”

Evie groaned, smacking her forehead.  “That makes sense, but stupid Maya and her perfect world.  I don’t think you see how _different_ you two are, especially about your futures.  You two staying together spells trouble.”

“Maybe she’s right though.  I don’t want to hurt her, Eve.  I don’t want any of us to suffer through a messy break up.”

“And you think keeping the charade going will not impact the group?”  Evie countered.  “What I see happening is you and Maya souring more, pulling everyone else into your problems.  We will be forced to take sides.  All the little nasty problems we have with one another will surface and blow up.”

Cullen shook his head and smirked, wiping his sweaty forehead on his Haven High griffon t-shirt.  “Always the pessimistic…”

“Isn’t that why you called me over here?”

“No, I hoped you will help load me this damn truck before my dad comes in here and kicks my ass.”

Evie laughed a few times, her auburn hair pony tail batting her face.  “All the more reason to sit here, drink my soda, and watch.  I’m just missing the popcorn…throw one of those ears of corn into the sun, will you?”

“Bitch…”

She bowed.  “You know it.”

Every time Maya dismissed Cullen’s aspirations, the more he found he felt little towards his girlfriend.  The spark that brought them together during the sophomore year died the more Cullen figured out they were not meant to be.  Every time they had the college debate, Cullen felt like his goals were not honorable.  He wanted to be a templar, a special operations soldier who served the Chantry.  He was the captain of the wrestling and track teams because he trained physically for basic training since middle school.  There was the reason why he was the shining knight when they played fairy tale games.  Anyway, only Alistair looked good in that fluffy pink dress.  Someone had to be the stolen princess if Evie was the fire breathing dragon, Astrid played the wicked queen, and Maya portrayed the group’s healer.  It took Nate three weeks to remove the super glued elven ears just for the joke ‘what does your elven archer eyes see.’

The whole shaky relationship continued like this for the next month.  Cullen kept asking for Evie’s opinion, usually over late night dinner binges at the local diner.  Evie avoided her house because her sister Patricia was getting married and making her life a living Void.  He enjoyed the honesty and open communication.  Maya and he argued more than hugged and kissed.  Every time Cullen tried to use any reconciliation advice, Maya shouted that it was so unlike him and that he just wanted a way out of their relationship without the guilty conscience.

It felt like a freight train smacked him upside the head when Evie bluntly declared Maya and Cullen will never be like his parents one night over a shared elfroot joint by the lake.  The senior never connected he was trying to make his relationship work so he could have the same happy life as he witnessed at home.  Evie continued with her conclusion rant and made Cullen realize that his joyous parents were anomaly, not the norm.  Evie and her little brother Esme were from her father’s second marriage.  The first marriage was an absolute failure, much like half the marriages throughout Ferelden.  Nate’s mother divorced his father soon after he got out of prison.  Fiona and Alistair’s father, Maric, were never married.  Dr. and Mrs. Cousland met in college after having several failed long-term relationships.  The only reason why Maya’s parents were not divorced was because they did not believe in it despite the known fact they slept in different rooms.  However, Evie remarked it was a noble goal to be like Cullen’s happy parents, even though it was not realistic.  The senior felt a fool to believe his love life could be like that.

Now knowing why he felt sick about not marrying Maya, Cullen agreed it was better to break off their relationship before any more damage destroyed their friendship as well.   However, his conclusion came a little too late.  By the time Cullen asked Maya to meet to talk, his girlfriend demanded he stop spending time with Evie.  The command threw Cullen for a loop, trying to figure out why.  He knew he spent less time Maya over the last month, but he needed to figure out what troubled him.  In that same time, Maya avoided him more and more.  Like before, Maya never admitted her emotions, kept them tight inside that no one could reach her heart.  The time spent with Evie never caused a problem in the past.  Everyone was just friends and never suspected something was going on beside friendship.  However, Maya and Cullen’s romance introduced that possibility to the crew.  What _were_ the others doing when alone in pairs?  Was everyone else fooling around like Cullen and Maya when they were alone?  Did one of the other guys or girls have romantic intentions for another and never said anything?  Were those interests towards Maya or Cullen?

Maya always struggled with confidence.  There was a reason why she was shy, meek one.  She developed assets before Astrid and Evie, gaining unwanted male attention from all ages.  The young woman questioned constantly what guys truly wanted.  One reason she fell in love with Cullen was that he never pressured and allowed her to govern their physical intimacy.  She never grew into her skin, despite Cullen telling her she was beautiful. 

How was Cullen supposed to know Maya was jealous?  He never dealt with the issue before.  He knew he was handsome, thus why he ran any time a woman flirted with him.  However, the idea that Maya was jealous of Evie never crossed his mind.  They were all close friends and trusted one another…right?  Her avoidance and quick snaps screamed jealousy, but she never _said_ she was mistrustful or suspected something else was going on.  She never vocalized her concerns to him just like Cullen never first asked what her problem was.  Evie and she were great friends, but they each had qualities the other hated.  In the past, they bickered and complained, but the comments never strained their friendship.  Evie knew Maya’s insecurities and fought against her bullies.  Maker, there was a reason why Nate’s dick curved after he grabbed Maya’s breast once.  Cullen wondered later if Evie knew about Maya’s jealousy.  It may explain her advocacy that Cullen should not wait and let everything get out of hand.

In true conflict fashion, Maya went to Astrid, the mother hen herself, and proclaimed Evie was trying to break up Cullen and her.  Evie kept trying to sway Cullen to date her instead because she supported him going to basic training.  They must be cheating with one behind her back.  Astrid, the no bullshit moderator, quickly approached Cullen and Evie.  Evie refused to sugarcoat that Maya and Cullen should stop dating.  Cullen asked for Evie’s opinion and she replied that Maya and Cullen should not continue if they no longer feel the same.  Evie only thought about what was best for them and the group, having no personal stake in Cullen or any of the other boys.  Evie stated Astrid was more appealing romantically than the boys, although Astrid did not believe that remark.  Cullen replied they were just talking like usual, no different than a year ago or five years before that.  They were friends, all of them and should trust one another enough to speak directly, not through Astrid.  Maya did not believe either person, slowly become absorbed in her inner thoughts and hurt emotions.  The young woman kept more to herself the longer the relationship continued.

The opposing sides quickly formed.  Alistair hated conflict, but believed Cullen wholeheartedly.  Cullen was an honest and dutiful person.  The pun king witnessed the growing problems, suggesting they should be open with each other before the issues got any worse.  Nate agreed with Maya that Evie was tampering with a good thing and Cullen did not see the sabotage.  The archery team’s captain remarked Evie approached it like one of their childhood pranks:  with a deep thought and laid out plan.  In the end, staying alone and seeing no way to convince either side, Astrid supported Maya because the meek girlfriend did not see the writing on the wall quite yet and needed time to process it all.

The apex brawl that late Firstfall day became legendary throughout Haven and is still discussed at pubs.  Things were thrown and punches flew.  All the small nick picky annoyances they all had against one another exploded into hurtful insults, screaming, fists, kicks, and tears.  The whole town declared it was an end of an age:  six best friends torn apart and will never recover. 

Despite the battle’s origins, Cullen and Maya did not officially break up until a week later.  Maya stated she wanted nothing to do with Cullen ever again.  Cullen figured it was a formality, a way that Maya can look back and say she did the dumping not the other way around.  Although Maya hiss at Evie right afterwards about he was single just like she always wanted, nearly sending the sides into a cafeteria food fight.  The crew divided in half first before fanning out six separate directions.  They acted like complete strangers throughout winter months.  Almost thirteen years of friendship lost in a matter of days. 

Evie felt responsible despite warning about this very thing.  She distance herself from everyone else, hoping her absence might fix the group.  It made it worse, leading to Alistair and Cullen having a serious fist fight in the Rutherford cattle barn while baling hey.  Nate showed up to school with a fat lip after pushing poised Astrid too far about liars.  Most of all, Maya became restless and mistrusting, even of Astrid, believing everyone thought she was easy and slut.  She started making bad life choices, such as hanging out with the high school’s delinquents.  Her grades substantially slipped to the point she lost her college scholarships.  With no visual future, she decided to give up on life.  No one could convince her she was loved and valued.  Her shy, kind soul gone and lost with the harsh Ferelden winter.

Cullen had not spoken to anyone else except Alistair in two months when they got the news.  After their stupid fight in the barn, Alistair asked if they could talk like adults, not boneheaded idiots.  Thank the Maker for the goof or Cullen might have lost his mind.  They were together when a mutual track friend called Alistair’s cell phone.  Both young adults thought it was a lie, a stupid rumor like the ones people enjoyed spreading about the disbanded group of friends.  There was no way this was truly happening.  The Maker could not be cruel.

Maya’s funeral made it indeed true.

On a dark cold winter night, Maya drove her mom’s light economy car a little too fast around a corner.  The roads looked clear, but she did not see the large patch of black ice on the turn.  The flimsy vehicle flipped and tumbled down the Frostback mountainside several times, ripping through a wire cattle fence and finally coming to a stop against an old oak tree the kids used to climb after school.  When they found her wrecked car, her body was impaled by fallen branches and fence wiring.  She died instantly.

It was a bitterly cold Fereldan winter day when they laid her to rest.  It was a close-casket funeral because her body was so mangled.  The split crew all attended, but stood scattered around the mourners.  Most of the former friends had not seen each other except in passing in a school hallway or during classes.  They traded quick glances and shocked expressions during prayers and when Maya’s father set the pyre alight.  They never spoke a word.  No one shed a tear for their lost friend sent to the Maker’s side just shy of her eighteenth birthday.  It was like Maya’s death dissolved the last spider treads tying the seniors together so they could now truly walk away.

Or Cullen thought.

Astrid broke her silence a week later.

“You idiots get here over _now_.”  Astrid hissed over the phone with so much venom Cullen thought he might need an antidote.  He knew that Highever bite that made the former crew jump ten feet in the air and plead for a swift death.  She inherited the talent from her mother.  Cullen at least got a hint of what was happening when Astrid barely whispered into the receiver, “It’s Evie.”

Cullen nearly fell unconscious as his face paled.  There was no cautious chuckles like when Lace Harding told Alistair and he Maya died.  He learned his lesson and just prayed half-heartedly he was wrong.

Alistair picked up Cullen and Nate on the way to Astrid’s house across town.  Cullen’s farm truck was a two seater and Nate still preferred to walk everywhere, aka he still failed his learner permit.  Alistair mother’s Subaru had all wheel drive.  No one wanted to tempt fate that night on the snowy roads and travel alone.  It was the most uncomfortable car ride ever, silent as each young man wondered what they were walking into.  When they arrived, the Cousland house was dark except for the upstairs bathroom overhead light.  Astrid’s parents were visiting her college brother in Highever and allowed her to stay home, still mourning for her best friend.

Evie was _drunk_ , puking and shaking violently in nearly boiling water.  All of them knew she was allergic to rum, but an empty bottle of _Captain Isabela_ laid on the tile floor.  Cullen assumed Evie showed up unannounced, and Dr. Cousland’s daughter immediately knew what anaphylactic shock looked like.  Astrid pushed her into the tub and administered an epinephrine shot before the molasses allergy killed her.  When the boys rushed upstairs, Evie was attempting to take a few Benadryl before puking into the toilet again.  Despite the scolding water, Evie looked like she was frozen solid with pale ashen skin and blue lips  Cullen threw off his wool peacoat and tossed it at Astrid to cover the shivering woman more.  Alistair did the same with his duck down coat before racing down the hall for any blankets Astrid had missed in the linen closet.  By the time Evie stopped violently shaking, nearly every comforter and blanket in the whole house absorbed the hot water and cocooned Evie’s clothed body.

 “You bloody idiot!”  Nate huffed, flipping up his hands and pacing back and forth.  “You nearly killed yourself!”  Cullen nearly punched the guy down the stairs once seeing Evie wince and shake again, but Astrid snapped her tongue once to stop everyone in their tracks without even looking away from her patient.

]Astrid slowly turned her head from the whimpering woman in the tub, glaring at the man with her piercing light grey eyes.  The young woman never lost her temper, but all the boys knew that look.  “That.  Was.  The.  Point.”

Alistair nearly vomited, catching his mouth before his dinner slipped all over the bathroom floor.  “ _Why!?_   Why would you do this!?”

“My…fault…all my…fault.”  The shivering woman whimpered; her wet waves stuck to the shower tiles and she kept thumping her head against the wall.

Cullen pinched his nose.  “Maker’s breath…”  Somehow, his mind had never considered one of them trying to commit suicide over everything.  He thought he knew these people, trusted him with his life, but everything was unclear and broken now.

“If I…never said anything…if I…” she curled up in a ball, pulling the soaked blankets over her head and slid down the tub nearly submerging herself.

Cullen stomped once, causing everyone present to jerk and gasp.  “Maya’s death was not your fault!”

“Not…just that…”

That got Cullen’s mind rolling.  “You mean saying we should break up?”

Evie buried her face into her knees, the trimmers getting worse.

“We should get her to the hospital…”  Nate advised, crossing his arms over his letterman jacket.

“No.”  Astrid snapped.  “No one can know about this.  Her parents are threatening to send her to Ostwick to live with her great aunt.  We all know how shitty her extended family is, especially since Patricia is getting married.  They want an excuse to throw Evie into an asylum, especially after what happened to Maya.”

“Oh yeah.”  Alistair rolled his golden eyes once he knew his stomach contents remained there.  “I will forever equate brie cheese with the sounds of Free Marchers mumbling ‘bestie bastards’ under their breaths.”  All five people moaned as the memory popped up in their minds.

“Still can’t get that green spot off my ceiling.”  Cullen added.  All five people nodded.

No one spoke for several minutes, feeling the tension hanging in the air between them.  Nate spoke first, shaking off his jacket and giving to Astrid.  The woman took it once she could not keep her own shivering under control.  “Miss you morons.”

“…thus my fault…”  Evie sighed.  Luckily, her tremors ceased the longer she kept bundled up.

“No, it isn’t.”  Cullen proclaimed, keeping his amber eyes locked on the empty liquor bottle by his winter boots.  “You were right.  We should have ended things before it got this bad.  I just wanted to keep the Pox’s together and not believe that Maya and I failed.  We destroyed the greatest thing we have between one another.”

“I won’t trade our friendship for anything.” Astrid added, resting her head on her hand.  She remained pressed against the tub, close to Evie just in case something happened.  “…well, maybe a chance to tell Maya we love her.”

“But Maya’s gone…”  Alistair glanced away.  “I haven’t eaten in a week.  All I want is her chicken noodle soup.”

“It’s her little giggles that haunt me.”  Nate admitted, leaning against the sink.  “At night, I keep thinking I hear her below my window while you goons are trying to throw that army-surplus grappling hook on the roof to kidnap me.  Her laughter keeps growing every time Evie tosses it and smacks Alistair in head.”

“…I only did that…once.”  Despite the rough, sickly voice, Evie seem better with each passing moment.  Her lips were a soft pink and the grey in her skin receded.  Astrid offered some more Benadryl, while Nate filled up a nearby cup with sink water.  “I just…wish we all knew better.”

“We all screwed up…”  Cullen sighed, running his hand through his curly blond hair.

“Blaming ourselves won’t bring Maya back.”  Astrid reminded everyone present.  “That’s why I called you all here.  We can do one of two things:  walk away and admit defeat, or we can grieve and move forward together.”

“Not…just moving…forward.”  Evie slowly unrolled herself from her soaked blankets.  “Never let personal relationships split us.  We love one another, but we cannot…risk love breaking us apart again.”

“I don’t plan on asking Alistair to prom, Cullen’s not my type, and you girls have cooties.”  Nate remarked, nudging his chin at each person present.  “I can agree with that.”

“…I really hoped you would ask me, Nate.”  Alistair pouted half-sarcastically at the jock.  Nate shoved him into the hallway jokingly.

Cullen rubbed his neck.  “I don’t plan on dating ever again.  I completely agree.”

Alistair returned back to the bathroom, pushing Nate off him.  His little chuckles disappeared once he realized they waited for his verdict.  His golden eyes flicked at everyone present, but hung onto Astrid gaze for a second.  “You all are more important.”

Astrid bit her lower lip, squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded.  “Okay.”

Evie smiled, titling her head.  Her skin slowly returned to its sun-kissed tan.  “Mates over dates.”

Maya’s death broke the clan, but provided the cement it bind them together forever.

And that’s why Cullen’s father’s advice royally screwed him.


	2. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much happier chapter than the first. I had to get the explanation out of the way first. I wrote this one in such a way to understand the Pox's dynamic even after years apart. I loved how it turned out.
> 
> Also, I really hesitated calling their little band 'the Pox's' because the word pox usually means syphilis or smallpox historically, even though I stated it was because they all had chicken pox together. What Haven residents are stating is that they are annoying, itchy, and leave a scar in their wake. Seriously, think about Cullen, Alistair, Nathaniel, Amell, Trevelyan, and Cousland as little kids hanging out in a small town. Andraste herself would not be able to save everyone! Then add all their siblings to the mix. O_O!
> 
> Chapter Song: "We Got Everything" by Modest Mouse
> 
> Posting for this story will be once a week after this. I want to get back to "Fire In Your Eyes," but keep my others going from time to time. I can only write so much. To keep updated, check out my tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thejeeperswife!

_Eleven Years Later_

“Please tell me you picked up beer.”  Evie hollered out the grey sofa’s back as Cullen entered the house.  “Alistair’s not answering his phone.”

Cullen nearly dropped the case of Redcliff craft beer while spitting his truck keys down the foyer.  He hustled over to the tiled island that divided the kitchen from the main living space.   He dropped his precious cargo on the counter before swinging his left foot at the front door.  “Beer for us normal drunks and tequila just for you.”  He declared as his boot finally caught the door edge and slammed it shut.  He heard a few cuss words from her ultra-bitchy next door neighbor, Professor Vivienne de Fer, in the townhouse next door.  “I had to fight an old lady for the last Antivan bottle, so I expect a big thank you.”

“How old?”

“Like seventy-five?”  Cullen thought back to the elderly woman who held the liquor store’s front door while chastising him.  He slowly shrugged off his light jacket to reveal his red and gold Fereldan soccer jersey and hung it by the door.  With his new cargo pants, he felt like a posh player.  Only if his knee did not dislocate every time he kicked a ball.  It was never a problem in the templars, but once on a pitch, it enjoyed giving out any time he had a strike on goal.

“You should have invited her over.  She would have fit in like a champ.”  Evie sang from the couch.  He noted her bare foot hanging over the right side’s arm, while flipping through channels.   Her auburn loose bun bounced on top of her head as she kept muttering something about the game better be available for how much she pays each month.  Her voice returned to normal once the Orlais and Ferelden flags flipped across the screen.  “Well, at least better than Ali can hold his liquor.”

“Just because you can empty a tequila bottle does not mean we can too, Eve.”  Cullen explained, shifting the priceless packages towards her refrigerator.  He pulled the appliance door open and winced when he saw the lack of space inside.  The appliance was not small like his at the studio apartment, more that Evie never was home long enough between exploration trips to eat all her groceries.  He figured Astrid would have annihilation any leftovers between her long shifts.  “Your liver handles more than most people can in a lifetime.  I’m surprised it hasn’t sued for sole custody.”

“Are you calling me an alcoholic, Rutherford?”  The woman jeered from her comfy spot, tossing a couch pillow towards the kitchen without knowing where he was standing.  “Because I know for a fact you empty a liter of Starkhaven whiskey without thinking twice.”

“Only when I don’t work the next morning.”  The man muttered, running his hand through his tossed wavy hair.  A withdrawal headache threatened since he dropped off Surana at the vet clinic following his morning run.  “Can I throw anything away in here?  There isn’t enough room for the beer.”

Evie sighed heavily.  Her bouncy bun disappeared behind the grey suede couch edge.  Once he realized she was not moving anymore, it meant she was lying down and not getting up to help him.  “Look if anything in there is considered a biological weapon by the Chantry or the cure to the Blight.  I haven’t looked in there since I got back.”

Cullen groaned, pinching his nose.  “You’ve been back for four days.  What have been eating?”

“Spicy Riviani takeout and whatever Nate fixes for Cassandra.”

The man smelled an open carton of milk and winced.  “This milk’s bad.”

“Leave it for Alistair.  It’s probably cottage cheese by now.”

“Maker, he will too.” 

Suddenly a Grand Cherokee county police’s siren whooped outside the townhouse.  Evie pointed upwards, scrunching her index finger a few times.  “Speaking of the bastard.”

Cullen smirked, while sitting the milk carton in the satinless steel sink.  “You only said his name twice.  I thought it was three times and he appears.”

“Orlais and Ferelden are reenacting the war for independence on the pitch today.”  Evie flipped her bare legs over the couch back.  From the small glint shining off the individual hairs along her knees, she had not bother to shower or shave today.  She probably smelled liked the Singing Maiden still after last night’s trivia night.  “You Fereldans don’t need the typical enchantments to show up and beat your chests like the archaic barbarians you are all.”

Cullen shook his head, while flipping takeout containers into the nearby trashcan.  “You’ve lived here nearly your entire life, Eve.”

“Ugh.  Don’t remind my sister.  Patricia likes reminding me that I smell like wet drooling dog all the time.”

Cullen huffed a chuckle right as he shoved the remaining refrigerator contents to the side for the case of beer.  “Better than that Maker-awful perfume she drowns in when she visits from Val Royeaux.”

Evie giggled.  “Do you think she would notice if we switched it for a fart bomb?”

That got the man laughing, his headache receding away the longer he stood in the kitchen.  “She didn’t the last two times…”  He grabbed a glass bottle of beer from the case.  His hand automatically reached on top of the refrigerator for the paint can bottle opener the geologist kept there after she enticed the whole crew with two cases of the best Orazammar beer.  She needed everyone to paint her new townhouse a charming dark red that will annoy her Orlesian neighbor every time the woman left her flat. 

Cullen glanced over his shoulder after registering a car door slam outside, allowing the fridge door to slowly close on its own.  Alistair’s famous fiery strawberry blond hair laid flat against his forehead after removing the brown rimmed officer’s hat.  He quickly dusted it up again as he clicked the police vehicle’s alarm key twice.  The man disappeared from view a few seconds before a set of knocks rang against Evie’s cream front door.

Cullen’s honey eyes flicked to the couch.  The bare feet remained over the back edge and never moved.  “Fine.  I’ll get it, you lazy bitch…”

Evie used her individual toes to flip him off.  “She lives next door, noodle head.”

In just a few long strides, Cullen’s hand grasped the steel door knob and opened the front door.  “Can I help you, officer?”

Alistair kept a stolid look on his face as he laid his sheriff hat under his right arm.  “We received a noise complaint, sir.”

Cullen shrugged and took a quick drink of beer.  “Sorry, sir.  You know how she gets when she’s reunited with her vibrator.”  Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen noted the mistress of the house flipping him off again.

“That’s why I told her she shouldn’t have gotten a semi-detached townhouse.”  Alistair sighed, stepping inside and into the kitchen.  Cullen slammed the door shut again and listened for the notable Orlesian groan from next door before watching Alistair open the refrigerator and grab a beer.  “I’m surprised the station hasn’t gotten more calls about her bad moaning.  Oh!  Fort Connor Lager!  You’re a good man, Rutherford.” 

Cullen pointed at the beer, then his best friend.  He lowered his baritone voice.   “That’s twice I’ve covered you ass, Sheriff.”  Alistair just shrugged and clicked the beer bottle against Cullen’s.

Evie pulled herself forward so her face appeared between the couch cushions and naked legs.  “I would like to have you know I’ve gotten more pleasure from that device than any of my past lovers.”

“No wonder you’re a bitch.”  Alistair mumbled, while opening his beer bottle.  Cullen tittered against the lip of his own bottle.

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “Shouldn’t you two be circle jerking in the back of the cruiser or something?”

Alistair swallowed his huge gulp of beer and flipped the paint can opener back in its special spot by the moldy loaf of whole wheat break.  He shook off his sheriff coat, revealing that he just got off shift protecting Haven from primarily the Pox’s.  The sheriff tossed his coat at Cullen, who hung it up on the wall-mounted rake beside his jacket.  Once complete, Cullen waltzed out of the kitchen towards an open island stool.  “We always wait for Nate.  You know how offended he gets when we exclude him.”

Evie groan and flipped her body back down against the couch, no longer aware where her two mates were in her house.  She kept her bare feet hang off the couch back, unaware Alistair sneaking up to them.  He flashed his hand holding his cold beer before switching it to his other hand.  He tickled the bottom of her foot.  The pair of feet flipped up, nearly nailing the sheriff in the nose.  The woman squealed as her legs crashed against a hard surface.  A thud rumbled throughout the large rooms as a body splatted across the hardwood floors.

“Fucking prick!”

Alistair quickly raced down the hall towards the spare bedroom.  “Cullen did it.”  He rattled off in a scared boyish tone.

Cullen witnessed Evie pop up over the couch redder than a lobster.  His assumption was correct.  The woman wiped most of her eyeliner off after the pub the night before.  Her signature drop amber pendant got tackled in her bangs in her shuffle.  She barely dressed in a long bangy T-back black tank top and white cotton exercise shorts with little mabaris kicking soccer balls.  He knew those shorts as the ones she wore in high school gym class, still fitting her after over a decade.  Her sunburn shifted to a sun-kissed tan while she was in Orzammar.  Lastly, her bright green contact eyes shifted between the hallway and the ex-soldier sitting between her kitchen and living room.

Realizing the geologist eyed him as the culprit, he took a drink of his beer and shook his head.  He pointed down the hall while swallowing.  “I know better!  Kill him!  I’ll help you bury the body.”

“Says the ex-templar…!” Alistair hollered from deep inside the townhouse before shutting a door forcefully.  Once again, an Orlesian hiss hummed through the walls.  The hostess groaned and tapped her bare feet, probably thinking which way to murder both men.  “Evie?  Where are my clothes?”

The woman huffed, scratching her bare feet a few times before stomping towards the kitchen.  In mid-step, she grasped the paper bag shaped like an Antivan tequila bottle left unattended too long.  “…In a dumpster if he does that again.” The woman hissed towards Cullen before raising her voice again.  “Your drawer is the second from the bottom, idiot!  You know, that much closer to the floor to remind you you’re no better than dirt!”

 Cullen perked an eyebrow.  “I thought it was based on dick length.”

“If that was the case…”  Evie began uncorking her tequila.  In a graceful fluid motion, demonstrating her years as a dancer, she twirled towards open set of shelving of mugs, wine glasses, and shot glasses.  Cullen remembered installing those industrial styled shelves and having to buy Evie a new set of tall pilsners when he did not read the instructions and messed up the connections.  “…Astrid should have the entire dresser.  You three together don’t even reach half her length.”

“Touché.”

Cullen noted he could not hear the woman move through her kitchen.  He twirled around on the stool to face her pointing at him.  “No Orlesian bull in this house today, mister.  I hear enough fake Orlesian orgasms from Dr. de Rust next door when her gariatic moneybags visits.  You would think I would invest in Viagra for how many blue pills he must take just even to attempt the act.”

“One day she’ll need Stitches to visit and jump start his heart so she can finish.”  Cullen added.  He took another gulp of beer.  Evie plopped down two shot glasses on the bar and proceeded to fill both.  “I’m not drinking that swill, Trevelyan.”

Evie scrunched her brow.  “Who said these are for you?!  And they’re definitely not for Alistair.  I know he wussed out of getting the liquor again.”  She downed one shot and refilled it.  “Astrid texted she was on her way and demanded something that could clean her soul of infectious bullshit.”

“The ER that bad again?”  Cullen lowered his beer, genuinely concerned.  “They keep making her pull multiple twelve-hour shifts.”

“I haven’t heard about it, but you know when she wants tequila, it must be bad.”  Evie shot the second drink from her glass and winced.  “If Alistair fulfill his liquor duties, there would be a new bottle of rotgut vodka chilling my freezer for her.”

“The game hasn’t even started.”  Cullen cautioned as he watched her fill the shot glass again.  “Nate’s bringing the food, and knowing you, you haven’t eaten.”

Evie’s eyelids hung low, unamused by his warning.  “I’ve been stuck in Orzammar, surrounded by dozens of stinky mining dwarves trying to grab my ass for nearly a month.  I’m sick of any beer that smells like dwarf piss and mistakes.  Besides, I did eat.”

Cullen’s eyes studied the top of her nearby trashcan.  Besides the takeout containers he just tossed was a faint green empty bottle of white wine.  “Wine is not food, Eve.”

“It’s grapes.  Learn your fruits, moron.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Dorian.”

“Jealous?”

The blond Fereldan just groaned and pinched his nose.

Alistair finally reappeared pulling a Kirkwall Templar t-shirt over his head, making sure not to disturb his restyled spiky hair.  His beer bottle already looked empty.  Cullen threw him a look, while Evie quick took another shot of tequila before the ex-templar scolded her again.  “What the Void, bastard!  You know the rule:  stay out of each other’s drawers!”

The sheriff shrugged and tossed the brown beer bottle in the recycling.  “Call the sheriff- Oh wait!  That’s me!”

Eve smacked the police officer upside the head.  “It’s your responsibility to do your laundry and replenish your clothing stock.”

Alistair kissed Evie on the cheek.  “Yes, Asty.”  He quickly ducked before Evie smacked his cheek.  His head disappeared into the refrigerator again to get another beer.  “I owe you, Cull.  Believe me.  It’s better this way.  Josephine set the courthouse thermostat to tropical so the Ac never kicked on.  Even Morrigan melted like someone threw water on her.  If I knew Nate was going to be late, I would have shower to spare you all of my stench.”

Evie perked an eyebrow.  “And that’s different how?”  Alistair pouted at the woman grinning wickedly. 

Cullen chuckled.  “It’s fine, but my muscles fill it out.”

Alistair popped his beer bottle open and flashed his best friend a cheeky smile.  “I know.  Knowing your sexy, buff body rubbed all up in this shirt makes me nearly explode.”  With his empty hand, he rubbed his chest all over and shook his ass.

“Maker’s ass, get a room…”  Evie muttered against her refilled shot glass.

“Jealous?” Cullen cooed, perking his eyebrow again.

“Nauseous…”  Evie corrected before taking her fourth shot.

Cullen smirked and pointed.  “At that rate, you will be and I refused to hold your hair again after you puked on my favorite pair of runners.”

Evie thumbed towards the ex-templar while bumping Alistair with her hip.  “Ungrateful.  I open my home and big screen television to him, and he won’t even agree to hold my hair…”

Alistair shrugged.  “I know.  I told his mother the big city ruined her perfect little angel.”

“Isn’t that the truth…”  Cullen agreed, taking the last drinks of frothy beer warming at the bottom of the bottle.  For a brief moment, Cullen’s amber eyes glazed as the signs of a panic attack lingered on the edge of his vision.  The headache thundered and squeezed behind his eyes.

Both of his mates recognized the look, quickly pulling him back to the present.  “Good thing he’s back!”  Alistair called and padded Cullen on the back, while Evie reached for a beer inside the refrigerator.  The sheriff hugged the soldier around the neck and purposefully fluffed Cullen’s tamed hair.  “For the first time in eleven years, all five of us live in the same small boring town.   You two thought it was wise to move to the Free Marches even though I told you that country sucks!”

Evie slammed a new open beer in front of Cullen hard enough to catch his attention.  Cullen nodded a thank you before grasping the unclaimed tequila shot.  He quickly shot the liquor, groaning as it disinfected his mouth and throat.  “Maker’s breath…You got to be pickled…”

“Pussy…” Evie giggled.  She danced back to the shelves to claim another shot glass.  “Remember, Theirin, that great country produced little ole me.  Furthermore, Ostwick State thought I was intelligent enough to award me a doctorate in lyrium geology so I could return and make sure my father doesn’t accidently blow up the Frostbacks.  That means they were smarter than any Fereldan university.”

Alistair waved before flopping down on the couch.  Cullen noticed the current channel discussed the whole soccer grand tourney, specifically Ferelden miraculous claiming a spot in the finals against Orlais.  “Note who is not in the finals, E-vers.”

Before Evie could say something smart and sassy, the front door flung open.  Two mabaris thundered towards Cullen like a herd of druffalo, knocking him off the stool with their combined weight.  A female grey and white hound licked his face several times, while the black and brown male bark and skipped around the living room.  He jumped on the couch on top of Alistair, nearly spilling his new beer all over the suede.

“Surana, Maker’s breath!”  Cullen huffed a few times, trying to control his hound.  “Yes, I’m alive!  I might not be in a second if you don’t get off my chest!”

“UGH!”  Evie held out the third shot glass to the shadowy figure standing in the doorway.  She dropped her large purse and paperwork in the foyer and kicked her sneakers off her feet nearly beaning Cullen in the behind.  The shadow accepted and immediately swallowed the liquid.  She handed it back, waving for another.  “Fuck this town!”

Cullen finally leaned forward, nudging his mabari away to join the other animal on the couch.  Alistair waved his beer in agreement, not even looking at the new arrival.  “That bad today?”

The ex-knight openly admits that Astrid Cousland was gorgeous, but in a way that shined from inside her soul than outward appearance.  She was tall and lean with hips that do not lie.  Her medical scrubs and lab coat never did her justice.  Because she darts between examination rooms, she kept her long black wavy hair tied back in an intricate braid and bun that highlights her shining light grey eyes similar to comets whizzing across the sky.  Her pale smooth skin and stature demonstrated she was from Fereldan, but her demeanor and articulacy when in public mimicked someone who regularly attended the Orlesian court.  However, when surrounded by her pals, her mute masks falls and her ire explodes, usually in a healthy way for her.  The Pox’s…not so much.

Astrid moved towards the kitchen while Evie poured her another tequila shot.  “Well, it’s official.  My General impregnated your dog, Rutherford.  According to the vet, she’ll be popping six Fereldan mutts out by winter.”

“One, two, three!  Not helping!”  Alistair shouted quickly.  “I was there last time the General fathered pups.  I still need to burn that blanket!”

Cullen rubbed his hound’s white face, sighing.  “They told me you were fixed.  Bloody Orlesians don’t know the difference between nads and ovaries, huh?”

Evie watched Astrid take another tequila shot before shaking off her doctor’s coat.  She still wore the familiar grey and blue scrubs from Haven’s small community hospital.  “Shouldn’t you get your dog neutered?”

The doctor threw her friend a look, then glanced at the two men in the townhouse.  “Only after these goons are snipped.  You drug their drinks, and I’ll give Anders a call.  They’ll never know, and the Divine will give us medals.”  Once she slung her white coat over the couch, she downed her third shot.  “Besides, don’t you want a pup now that you decided to be a Fereldan again?”

Evie frowned, leaning her head on her hand while resting her elbow on the island.  “None imprint on me.  Cullen finds a stray in Val Royeaux and puff, imprinted.  I have sat through so many mabari births and none even look at me twice.  Do they just know I’m not technically Fereldan?”

Surana barked and growled at the woman. Cullen slowly climbed to his feet and stretched his back.  “Yup.  Your forefathers didn’t club their wives over the head and drag them back to a cave.”  His hound barked excitedly, agreeing.

“Don’t feel bad, E-vers.”  Alistair added.  “None of the General’s spawns liked me either.”

Astrid flicked Alistair’s ear.  “That’s because he knows you aren’t intelligent enough to care for anything.  You kill those air plants that thrive on neglect!  That’s why he rushes to your side and checks if you pissed yourself again.”

Alistair whined, batting the physician away.  “I do that _once_ and suddenly everyone thinks I uncontrollably relieve myself all the time.”

Cullen flicked Alistair’s other ear, grinning.  “It would explain why your squad car smells like ammonia.”

Alistair nearly caught Cullen’s hand after feeling the flick against his earlobe.  The sheriff struggled to turn and punch Cullen in the shoulder because of the eighty-five pound mabari sitting on his lap.  “Maker, damn it!  You all know I hate that!”  His face flushed like his reddening ears.  His lips pouted like a silly little toddler.  “It hurts…”

Astrid flipped her hand as she walked towards the same spare bedroom Alistair entered when he arrived.  “Now children!  Mommy has a headache from telling little idiots not to lick lampposts.” 

Cullen flicked Alistair’s ear again, darting away from Alistair smacking.  “Someone’s trying to beat your record, Theirin.”

The spare bedroom door slammed.

The whole living room and kitchen fell silent as they waited for the professor next door to scream.  The mabaris howled approving when the neighbor hollered some Orlesian rubbish through the wall.   Evie giggled against her shot glass.  “Maker, I love you assholes…”

Alistair stuck out his tongue over the General’s head.  “You like assholes!?  What kind of shit do you do with your toys, E-vers?!”

Cullen could tell by the little wicked grin plastered across her plump pink lips she was tipsy.  “You tell me, Ali.  You’ve watched all my videos on PornVid …”

Alistair rubbed his hazel eyes, while the General licked his right cheek a few times.  “I said that woman could contort her body like you.  I never implied it was you or someone who looks like you.”

Cullen’s amber focus remained on the sun-kissed tan woman leaning against her island.  She kept touching her shot glass to her pink lips.  He could tell she was thinking on how to torture their mate for comparing her with a porn star during last month’s Wicked Grace night.  “How is that, Sheriff?  That I can kiss my own ass or that I can bend my back so my feet rest on my head.  Apparently, porn stars are also dancers and gymnasts.  Good thing I could pay my way through school and not resort to adult film…or did I?”

Cullen chuckled deeply while taking a swig of beer.  “What’s worse is that I got Nate to download that woman’s catalog on his work computer.  It auto plays every time he logs in.  Even the Nightingale finds it amusing.”

Evie laughed harder than Cullen.  “I got Esme to remotely change his ring tone to her moaning!  He can’t figure out how to fix it without factory resetting it!”

Alistair sank in the couch so neither person could see him.  “Thus why I didn’t bring anything.  I refuse to turn up my volume.  Until you pricks fix it, my phone stays off or on vibrate.”

Evie burst out into cackling gasps, grabbing the island counter top.   Both men threw her a look, wondering why she could not stop laughing.  Soon, her infamous snorting, the butt-end of many jokes throughout the years, began sending the whole group into hysterics.  Astrid finally reappeared from the spare room.  She pulled the oversize pair of heather grey sweatpants’ drawstring so they will not fall over her hips.  Cullen groaned once he registered she also wore a Rutherford Farms t-shirt.

“Come on!”  Cullen whimpered, waving towards Astrid.  The doctor continued to the kitchen, picked up the filled shot glass and drank it happily.  “Do your laundry, you slobs!”

Astrid giggled as Evie snorted a few more times, pointing at Cullen like he had something on his face.  “It was either this or Nate’s work tank, and I refuse to wear a bra longer than I publically have to.  I will wash everything once I visit my house sometime this next age.  Why are you laughing, Evie?”

Evie caught her breath enough to thumb towards Alistair.  “He never figured out the vibrate is set to her orgasms!”

“What!?”  Alistair hollered, finally pushing the brown mabari off his lap.  “I’m sorry, okay!?  Just fix my phone please, Evelyn!”

Astrid did not need anyone present telling her what they were referencing.  Her long wavy raven black hair formed a curtain around her face as she leaned over in laughter.  The doctor must have taken it down while changing.  She barely held up her palm to the woman cackling beside her.  Evie just gently tapped it with her own hand.

“You knew, Asty!?”  Alistair grimaced, his shoulder sunk forward in defeat.

Astrid barely composed herself.  “I suggested it!  Esme did it in record time too.  The man’s a tech genius!”

The General paced his paws on Alistair’s chest to sooth the defeated man.  Cullen just smirked around his beer bottle, relieved for once he was not get the pranks.  Since he returned to Haven a year ago, the Pox’s focused their tricks on him as a welcome home gift.  If it was not for the mabari licking his cheek, Cullen might kiss Alistair for placing his foot in his mouth during cards.  Evie’s return torture slowed because she traveled a great deal for her new job.  Nate focused on those pranks.  Cullen knew Evie has not found the big rubber spider between her bed mattresses or she would be still crying.  The clan cackled every time she complained of an achy back and rough night sleeping.

The four friends nearly piled at the front door once they heard the famous Haven High’s marching song beeping out of a rust-bucket old Volkswagen Bus.  The vehicle still had that iconic grey and blue paint with a faded griffon on both sides, the mascot of Haven High.  Astrid spent nearly two weeks drawing the griffon, and Nate stupidly forgot to weather proof the painting.  Since Nate bought that old piece of crap when he turned seventeen, the group knew when it was the end of school or if fresh Fereldan food just arrived.  Unlike the other arrivals, all four people willingly raced towards the front door to meet the last living member of their childhood clan.  Both mabaris jumped over the human piles and nudged the screen door open to meet the latest arrival. 

On top of the pile, Evie slipped on a pair of flip flops and ignored a jacket before sprinting out the door.  “Food!”

Stuck on the bottom, but the only other shoed person, Cullen shoved off Alistair aside, and carried Astrid on his back.  “Thank the Maker one of us knows how to cook!”  Astrid giggled and clasped Cullen’s neck as they raced outside.

Alistair slowly gathered himself off the hardwood foyer and slipped a pair of too-small slippers.  He stumbled outside onto the front stone stoop.  “Hey!  Fereldan cuisine just requires you to boil everything until it is mush like my stews!”

Astrid hopped off Cullen’s back into the grass.  Her shimmer moon grey eyes scowled at the sheriff.  “Just because we willingly ate that slop during the Blight outbreak does not mean we enjoyed it!”

Always fashionably late, Nate hopped out of his bus.  His long black hair was in a stupid man bun on his head, his purposeful rebellion against male stereotypes.  His stupid soul patch goatee looked extra groomed despite his unkempt appearance.  Like Cullen, he wore Fereldan colors but as a long bold strips down his shirt, mimicking a rugby uniform.  He hid his pasty white legs under dark jeans and cross-country trackers. 

As Cullen opened the side van door, a slow-moving golden mabari with long wavy hair stepped out, gingerly taking her time until all four paws landed on the soft fall grass.  She was immediately greeted by the two other hounds with sniffs and licks.  The ex-templar rubbed her head and smiled, then retrieved a cloth grocery bag with hot contents inside.  “Hi Maia.  Your joints again?”  The hound whined a little as she slumped forward.

“I thought we agreed that Alistair can never touch any kitchen stove ever again.  Cassandra keeps asking how he scorched my flame retardant tiles.”  Nate questioned, immediately knowing what the discussion was about.  They always brought up Alistair’s lousy meals when Nate cooked for the clan.

“You did, but you never barred me from grills or camp fires.”  Alistair reminded everyone.  He crossed his arms over his chest, supervising the unloading as his friends dished out bags and boxes between them. 

Cullen was first to walk back to the townhouse, both hands filled with beloved Fereldan goodness.  “That was insinuated, Theirin.  Nate did not become a park ranger because he enjoys arresting poachers.  If you cause one more wildfire, I think even the Divine will murder you.”

Alistair rolled his hazel eyes and sighed.  “You burn water twice and everyone thinks you’re an idiot…”

“You are!”

The sheriff grimaced when he registered all four friends and three mabaris agreed in unison.  “You’re all are rubbish…”

Cullen passed the moron and kissed his cheek.  “Cheer up.  I think there is fresh homemade cheddar cheese in this bag.”

Alistair dove for the cloth bag.  “Gimme!”

Evie whispered something to the three hounds begging for the crock pot fill with Fereldan turnip and barley stew.  She nodded towards the lawn next door.  All three war hounds skipped over to the pristine green lawn and proceeded to fertilize it with three huge mounds of feces.  Nate cackled under his breath as he witnessed the action.  He quickened up the front stone walk towards the stoop, knowing it would be seconds before the Orlesian whore next door realized what happened.  He learned enough Orlesian to understand which set of insults the professor will use.

Astrid closed the van door with a heavy thud, noting the clump of rust that fell off the undercarriage.  “We’ll need to fix that soon.”

Evie shrugged, while carrying her priceless cargo towards her outside door.  Her bright green eyes glanced up at her pretty semi-detached townhouse, renovated and remodeled like the old Fereldan turn of the age style.  “You can see the asphalt through the passenger side floor.  Freaks me out.”

Astrid sighed and stepped slowly through the grass not to hurt her bare feet.  “The thing’s an icon.  I don’t want it to rust to pieces.”

“It will take us a month to fix the rust alone, and that’s if we all took vacation and slept in Harritt’s garage.”

By then both women reached the porch, each smirking hearing the Orlesian cussing through the thin outside walls.  Astrid spoke as she opened the screen door.  “We’re all home now.  We can do it.”

The golden wavy haired mabari followed behind the women, leaving the General and Surana to wrestle in the front yard.  The oldest hound muffled a few woofs at the mates.  Both women smiled.  “Including you, Amell.  We’re all home…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Leave me a comment or kudos. I'll reply, I promise!
> 
> Please love me.
> 
> Maker, I need to get out more...


	3. Pitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Who Needs Sleep" by Barenaked Ladies
> 
> Yes, I call football soccer in this. I'm American, but it still pains me to not call it by its true name. I apologize to my non-American readers. :P
> 
> Keep an eye out for a new Friday posting by me, but for another story. I know a few readers who are anxious for a specific fan fic's return. Now that the holidays are done, I can start focusing on it again.

The grand tourney finals resembled a basketball game more than a soccer match.  By halftime, Ferelden led five to zero over Orlais.  The empire’s defense never showed up for the game and their offense shared several yellows cards.  Ferelden barely broke a sweat, jogging down the pitch like it was a nice causal match and not the Thedas Cup.

The crew’s typical drinking game made them all too drunk by the time the game resumed after halftime despite all the stew, cheese, and homemade bread they ate.  Evie’s kitchen mimicked a war zone than a cooking area.  The hostess forgot to buy paper plates, so her sink was filled to the brim with glass plates and cups.  Her dishwasher was already full and slowly cycling through the cleaning process.  Spilled stew ran down the wooden cabinets, partly licked clean by a passing mabari.  Muddy paw prints and crumbs littered the once nice hardwood floors.

Darkness descended over the whole living area as the sun disappeared over the Frostbacks.  Only the television’s fluorescence lit the comfy area.  Each adult watched the game in silence, either too drunk or tired to talk.  Their once explosive cheering turned to fist bumps when Ferelden scored again.  The announcers even ran out of things to say, only remarking who on the barbarian team had not made a goal yet.  Ferelden’s two main strikers kept dribbling the ball down the pitch, hoping for a hat trick. 

Astrid’s double shifts took a toll on the physician as she hugged the General like a body pillow.  She claimed the spinning armchair by the television so she did not have to squint as much.  Everyone knew she was blind once she reached the buzzed stage.  Cullen’s family farm t-shirt rid up each time the mabari’s tail pushed the seam upward, showing off her pale skin and bloated stomach of food and beer.  His sweatpants fell enough that her grandma panties peeked out.  The other friends only made a few slants about the chosen undergarments, too chill or sleepy to take advantage of the clothing choice.

Maia the Mabari, the Pox’s war hound, laid over Alistair, Cullen, and Evie on the couch.  She was sleeping as Cullen scratched behind her ears.  Her dark blue eyes flicked open every once in a while when Evie or Alistair shifted on the couch.  Cullen would gentle smile down at the dog to sooth her.

Maia the Mabari was Maya Amell reincarnated the crew believed.  About a month after the group reconnected, they were walking along an old Haven stone wall and found a runt mabari pup near death about half a mile from where Maya died.  The crew broke out crying when they saw her dark blue eyes and satin wavy hair.  They quickly transported the pup home, bathed, and bottle fed her until she regained her strength.  Everyone noted her cautious and shy personality, agreeing Maya returned to them in a true Fereldan form.  She never imprinted on anyone, although Nate took care of more while Astrid and Evie left for college, Cullen enlisted in the templars, and Alistair when to the police academy.  With everyone back, they each housed their friend where she felt like laying her head.  Even the General and Surana looked out for her and knew she could not rough house like the younger animals, still suffering from a low constitution.

Cullen could recuperate from all the beer, tequila, and whiskeys tomorrow, blissful drunk for the first time in months.  His work partner, Cassandra, was overseeing emergency services so he could relax and not work like the world was ending _again_.  The two former military officers oversaw all of Haven and the county’s emergency services, including search-and-rescue, firefighting, and EMS.  They also had local jurisdiction over the National Guard if something arose, such as flash flooding or a wildfire based on their Chantry background and the area being safeguarded by the Grand Cathedral.  The employment opportunity came from the Chantry once the former seeker and templar wished to stop leading troops against religious adversaries or Venatori terrorists.  Just as long as Cullen was helping people, he was happy.  Anything to forget what his former duty required after ten years in Kirkwall. 

Cullen did not want to shuffle through his past, so the ex-templar just enjoyed just vegging and existing.  Nowhere else did Cullen feel safe and calm as surrounded by his best friends and his support mabari, Surana.  The grey haired hound laid on his left foot, while the right rubbed her tummy, careful not to harm the half dozen pups growing in her womb.  She was heavily asleep on her back, kicking her back leg randomly or when the announcers declared another goal.  Before officially retiring to Haven, he and Cassandra were stationed in the Orlesian capital for a half a year.  Maker, he prayed he never went back to that stuffy city.  The former knight wonder how such an intelligent animal was left as a pup in the backstreets looking like she was abused before dumped.  However, she chose him as her owner, passing both support therapy and search-and-rescue trainings easily.  She only acted up when Cullen was with the clan, knowing he was in a safe environment surrounded by people who loved and cared about him dearly.

Evie rested her head on Alistair’s shoulder, using her messy bun to poke Alistair awake when she heard a slight snore leave the police officer.  She slung one leg over Cullen’s knee so Maia’s back leg was not awkwardly placed.  She actually worked in the morning, investigating a new set of caverns her father’s mining company found while she was in Orzammar.  The mining corporation always stumbled onto abandoned mines and caves from the Dragon Age, usually containing archeological artifacts from human, dwarven, and elven origins.  She worked independently of her family’s business, technically employed by Skyhold University about ten miles away, but did not teach at the prestigious academy.  She preferred it that way, allowing her brother Rian to govern the multi-million company with his wife, Josephine.

Cullen noted the geologist stopped poking the sheriff awake after the fourth alert.  Evie just made sure he did not shift Maia’s behind weirdly.  Like the clan’s ER doctor, Alistair just finished four long shifts, specifically requesting the soccer match off.  Oghren agreed to mind the station and will call Aveline, his deputy and second in command, if something comes up.  Budget cuts hit Haven’s sheriff’s office badly, leaving them sometimes understaff.  Alistair refused to let the limitations hit his department.  After becoming sheriff following his mentor Duncan’s retirement, the man dedicated his life to protect Haven and the whole surrounding county.  The small hamlet never really had issues, sans the random egging or noise complaint.  Most previous reports were _because_ of the Pox’s.  When tourists visited the Temple of Sacred Ashes, an old historical Chantry ruin, the station really got busy with calls about theft or break-ins as ironic as it sounds.

Taking the recliner by the large bay window was Nate.  The park ranger was the only crew member who worked for the arling and Ferelden, not at county or Chantry levels.  As a kid, he wondered the Frostbacks’ woodland areas for days without anyone finding him.  The crew developed a special whistle to alert their friend to come play if he went missing.  After his parents divorced and his dad went back to jail, he preferred trees over other beings.  The group were the only real people he interacted with willingly.  When they graduated high school, Nate wanted to do something in forestry, attending community college until his resume looked well enough to apply.  He knew the area, so the national park service in conjunction with the Chantry hired him to oversee all county-level woodlands.  Alistair and he worked side by side during hunting session when people killed without licenses or too many animals.  It was his rangers that assisted the mining company when they found the caverns.  By the lack of beers the ranger consumed, he must have to get up early with Evie to trek through the new underground areas.

Cullen also noted how he kept spinning his empty beer bottle on his knee and not using the reclining option to prop up his feet.  Nate never showed anxiety or stress, always pursing his current mindset.  He was like not Maya, who never spoke her emotions.  Instead, Nate control his emotions until they bubbled over, something the crew continues to work with him on so he does not go crazy like his old man.  That is why the spinning beer bottle seem off.  Something nagged him while he watched the game.

It did not take long to discover what after Ferelden scored a seventh time with ten minutes left on the clock.  Alistair was pretty knocked out with his head resting on the couch back.  Both of Evie’s bare legs laid over Cullen’s thigh, propping up Maia’s sleeping head.   Cullen decided to finish his last beer in two gulps, knowing he was not driving home tonight.  He requested one of the spare rooms, while Astrid will claim the other.  The doctor rocked in the swivel chair holding her huge mabari like a baby.  The General patted and sat his big muzzle on top of her raven hair.

“I think I’m going to ask Cassandra to marry me.”

Cullen spit his beer all over the wooden coffee table.  Astrid jumped in the armchair, sending she and her hound backwards.  Their combined weight toppled the chair.  The chair’s thud sent Alistair flying forward in panic, while Evie shielded herself from Cullen’s flying beer foam.  Maia hopped off the couch in fright, stepping on both Alistair and Cullen’s balls.  Surana rolled over, kicked by her master and began howling.  That sent the General singing.  Over the craziness, a familiar Orlesian hiss rang through the thin walls.

“Hey, this is new furniture, damn it!”

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“General, get off me!”

“Maia, Maker’s breath!”

The only one not figuring out the chaos was Nate, who watched the commotion curiously.  He kept spinning his beer bottle as three mabari howled and barked, Evie rolled over the couch for some paper towels, and both couch men held their throbbing genitals. 

Astrid pushed off her hound and struggled to her hands and knees before standing again.  She reached down for the chair back, puffing her long black waves out of her face.  “Something you would like to share with the group, Howe?!”

Nate scratched his man bun as Evie tossed a roll of paper towels at Cullen.  Evie opened the front door to shove the younger dogs outside.  Maia sat down by Nate and rested her head on the recliner arm.  She whined and eyed him closely.  She would throw looks at the flushed men still aching on the couch for them to hurry up and settle down.

“I’m was just thinking about it.  That’s all.  I wanted to say it out loud to hear how it would make me feel.”  The ranger explained as the clan simmered down.  Astrid finally got the chair up.  Cullen cleaned up his frothy mess, managing to even hit the wall-mounted television.  Alistair kept shaking his head violently and rubbing his eyes.

“And the verdict?”  Evie quizzed, standing by the couch with her hands on her hips.  Her tank top showed off her flat stomach and curvy features from years of stretching.

“It’s the best thing.”  Nate cackled once, scratching his sole patch.  “Huh.”

“So the group pervert finally found someone who can leash him.”  Alistair commented once his sleepiness fell away with his growing smile.

“Well, technically Cullen found her and brought her here.”  Nate corrected, pointing at the blond ex-templar finishing wiping down the coffee table.

“True, although I never imagined you two working so well.”  Cullen smirked.

“In all due respect, Nate only worked well with his left hand before Cassandra.”  Evie remarked, sending the group into a titter.  Nate did not deny it and simply shrugged.

“Seriously.  What do you think?”

Cullen could tell by the man shifting eyes he was asking for honest opinions.  He was the only member in a serious relationship at the moment.  Well actually, for the last year and a half.  When he left Kirkwall, the ex-templar ended his on/off relationship to focus on quitting the steroid lyrium.  Much like Maya and he, he knew he could never marry the woman, despite Bethany being a sweet and loving person.  She deserved someone who would truly love and care about her.  Alistair hated dating and focused on filling my mentor Duncan’s shoes.  Astrid was married to her job and declared she would become that old-maid dog lady surrounded by the General’s descendants who will yell at kids destroying her garden.  Lastly, Evie’s love life was only with herself, too many times burned by jerks or people seeing dating her as status within rich communities.

All eyes focused on Evie to speak first.  She was after all the woman who gave her ingenuous opinion.  Yet, when Cullen’s amber eyes studied her, her bright green eyes danced around like she did not have anything to say.  It took her a moment to realize they were waiting for her, a change from the normal because she would have already finished her rant.

“Uh well…”  Evie thought for a minute.  “I don’t really know what to say.  I mean, you only have known each other for a year.  You started dating after your diner charade finally worked.  You moved in together five months ago, and you never really complain about her.  We don’t have a problem with her.  Well, maybe me but that’s because we are so similar.  If she was not covering for Cullen, she would be here right now.  So…”

“But…?” Alistair sang, seeing some hesitation in her expressive face.

“I just…any of us…marrying?  Like wow.”

Cullen blinked a few times, trading glances with the three other people around her.  She was right.  That was kind of weird to think about, but not in a bad way.  Cassandra became Cullen’s military buddy throughout his service.  She stood with him during the fire fights and the Kirkwall Qunari invasion.  She only knew him as an adult, which was somewhat nice and allowed him to become the man he wanted to be.

When Cullen decided he was done with the templars, the seeker investigator agreed she too was ready to leave that part of her military life.  She lost her longtime boyfriend during her service and felt she needed something new to embrace.  Never feeling close to her Nevarran family, Cullen suggested she come to his hometown away from the city but close enough to the Divine that she could still contribute.  The seeker and Evie already knew each other when…well, Cullen did not want to think about that at the moment.  The Chantry-Arling position for Frostback emergencies came up and both officers fit the bill.  Cullen handed Ferelden-sided operations and Cassandra oversaw the Orlesian matters.  They worked continuously as a team, thankful for one another who understood their troubling backgrounds.

The fact the crew liked her was a bonus.  The Nevarran is extremely stern and tough, having snipping exchanges with Evie.  Astrid respected the seeker because she also kept the group from getting into the trouble.  All three women were hard workers and very dedicated to their professions.  Cassandra groaned constantly around Alistair since the man loves puns.  However, when crap got bad, he was extremely professional and supportive, something Cassandra liked about the funny moron.

Cullen feared what the seeker would do to Nate though.  When working, Nate’s head focused on the task so his ADHD did not divert his attention elsewhere.  Once the tense situations broke, he was enjoyed annoying people, especially the stuffy and uptight individuals.  Oh the things he did to Patricia, Evie’s sister…priceless.  He was sly and unpredictable, two things Cassandra hated dearly.  Following a risky ploy that Cullen swore would have lead Nate being found disembowel, the two people shedded their exteriors and spoke openly. 

Throughout their exchanges, Nate broke the woman’s hard resolve, while she encouraged his hawk focus to continue beyond the forest to other activities he loved dearly but forgot about over the years, such as archery.  The crew believed his cooking won her heart.  Nate claimed she was a challenge that required him to rethink everything to sweep her off her feet.  The clan never discovered what the man did, but whatever it was worked quite well.

Astrid waved her hand and sat back down in the swivel chair.  “That is irrelevant at the moment.  Howe, you really love her, don’t you?”

Nate grinned and nodded.  He petted Maia’s head softly.  “Yes.  I mean, I haven’t felt this good for years.  During the Blight, I felt alive and useful.  My mountaineering saved Haven from starvation when there was not food production.  Once the outbreak ended, I felt disconnected from the world again.  With Cassie, and all of you back home, I feel like I belong…whole again.”

“You have no objection from me then.”  Cullen laughed, throwing up his hands.  “Cass is great.  She saved my life so many times and in different ways.  To see you and her so happy and content, it’s awesome.”

Astrid eyed the group and sighed.  “Agreed, but is this something you discussed?  You are not a very expressive guy.  She is not either.”

“Thus why I said it out loud.”  Nate pointed at the doctor.  “I mean, I’m not asking her tomorrow or anything, just more putting it on the radar to flush out.  I’m just surprised I even want this.”

Alistair blinked a few times.  “Wait.  You haven’t ever thought about settling down?  Starting a family?  White picnic fence?  Two point five kids?”

Nate perked an eyebrow.  “I didn’t have the best role models, remember?  The only people that kept me from going full grizzly mountain man were you nitwits.”  He rubbed Maia’s head again smirking.  “And of course you, little one.”

“What say you, Amell?”  Evie asked in a giddy voice.  The more they spoke, the more her trepidation disappeared from her eyes.

The golden mabari barked and licked the park ranger’s hand.  The whole crew chuckled a few times.  Her high pitch woofs sent the mabaris outside to bark as well.  On cue, Evie’s next door neighbor huffed something through the walls.  That just got the whole clan laughing.

Cullen pointed at the television, noting the soccer players running around with the Fereldan flag flying like capes on their shoulders.  “And that’s game.”

“Tequila shots all around!”

“Maker’s breath, Eve…”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Too late.”

“You’re all so dumb.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thedas Cup match based on the 2014 World Cup match between Germany and Brazil. My husband and I watched it at a German pub and was drinking a pint of beer for each goal. The hungover was horrible...


	4. Caved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: “Le cose da difendere” by Nek  
> I love this song, and if you translate the lyrics, it fits so well with this story.

The Fereldan late summer sun still had not risen over the hillside, and Evie was already gathering her jeep keys and any other loose items for the spelunking trip.  She and Nate agreed to meet off the nearest access road by a hiking trail.  He wanted to review any topographic maps against her Geographic Information System (GIS) analysis so they understood the area before the other researchers arrived.  Nate really did not want to screw up the survey and cause problems.

Evie spent the last few days working with Skyhold professors and graduate students on the new potential cave system, specifically the archaeology department.  Each race handled artifacts differently, and she wished to avoid another scandal if she could.  She loved collaborating with Dagna on surface dwarven sites because most dwarves only wanted any recorded text for the Shaperate.  If the items are found on the surface, Orzammar dismissed it as non-caste trash.  Surface dwarves proactively developed their own history archive separate from their underground cousins.  As one of the few surfacers allowed to study with the dwavern capital, Evie wanted to keep the working relationship healthy and alive, hopefully leading to some historical exchange between underground and surface dwarves.

The geologist did not mind Solas, but the elven professor rarely shared specifics with her.  She always felt like that was more going on than his research admitted.  However, no matter her own thorough studies and observation, she could never figure it out.  Solas was an unconventional elven scholar, disagreeing with most Dalish keepers about their forgotten history.  Evie rarely kept her mouth shut, but she made sure she stayed as small as possible when Solas and Dr. Adelheid Lavellan bickered.  It was no secret that the two were past jaded lovers, but their studies and strong opinions broke them up.

Lastly, Mother Giselle had stated she was sending a Chantry representative if any human artifacts, specifically if anything from an old heretical cult was found, but left a voicemail last night admitting no one was available.  Haven and the Frostback’s histories are strange and all over the place.  The small hamlet once was filled with Andrastian believers who protected the Maker’s Brides ashes.  Those believers turned heretical throughout time until the legendary grey wardens killed them and their false Andraste dragon, thus why everything in town revolved around the warriors:  the town hall called Warden Keep, Haven High’s mascot was the griffon, the large mountain behind Haven called Soldier’s Peak, etc.  The Chantry took over the site until something happened to the Temple of Sacred Ashes over four ages ago.  Now the ruins are a tourist attraction for devote Andrastians seeking redemption while on pilgrimage to the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux.  The Chantry keeps a tight grip on any human artifacts found from the Dragon Age that may contradict their precious purposefully-crafted legends.

All the more reason why Evie prayed this was just another old limestone cave that finally made itself known after a flooding or something.  It will not be the first one and will not be the last either.  For nearly a millennia, beings have discovered, mined, and built civilizations throughout the Frostbacks Mountains.  Skyhold College’s main castle used to be an elven temple called Tarasyl’an Te’las.  The rich mining history is why Evie’s father moved her family from Ostwick to Haven when she was five.  There are all sorts of mineral and lyrium seams throughout the mountain range that the Chantry allowed the Trevelyans to mine and ship throughout Thedas.  That is why Evie has such an important job that moved her back to the hamlet four months ago.  That same opportunity forced her up and about at 06:00, while her fucking best friends sleep off their damn hangovers.

By the time the ranger left last night, the three other clan members were nearly passed out in their rooms.  The master suite filled the third floor with a massive bathroom and open bedroom layout.  The remodeling allowed the old building’s iron and brick ceiling to open over Evie’s master bedroom.  She allowed loved old industrial architecture.  Astrid took the second floor’s guest bedroom with its own bathroom just in case the hospital calls with an impossible emergency.  Across the hall from that room was Evie’s study filled with her gem and mineral collection, books, and desktop.  Cullen claimed the communal downstairs spare room where the Pox’s always kept their change of clothes and other belongings, something they have always done since they moved out on their own after high school.  Alistair never planned on staying, but he claimed the couch with the General once he realized he did not want to drive across town in his sauced state. 

Evie smirked to herself while impatiently waiting for the coffee to brew.  One celebratory shot of tequila had turned into essentially four, a wicked trick by Evie on those friends who did not work in the morning.  Nate knew what she was doing, noticing she was giving out double shot glasses to the three and apple juice to the two in on the joke.  Nate called for a second to commemorate his new life goal, winking at Evie to do it again.  Cullen, Alistair, and Astrid could not say no when Evie and Nate already took their drink again.  It was a challenge that no one ever declined.

Feeling only a little sorry for pranking the slobs, she made a big pot of dark roast coffee, making enough noise to piss off her neighbor and alert Cullen it was nearly dawn.  Maker, she should not be awake right now.  Somehow, the ex-templar ran every morning at 06:30 no matter the weather conditions.  He always fed the hounds together, so Evie left their bowls empty.  The General whined on top of Alistair hungrily, but he knew not to beg.  Surana and Maia were probably curled up with the early riser, probably bugging him for their meals.

Evie really did not want to talk to anyone before the survey, finishing adding creamer to her big travel mug and adding it to her caving gear and canvas tablet satchel by the front door.  Her bright green eyes noted the milk carton that Cullen took out of the fridge still laid on the counter.  Dirty dishes filled her satinless steel farm sink, while her granite and tile counter tops looked like a stew bomb exploded.  The geologist groaned knowing she will need to change out the dishes in the machine when she gets home.  Cullen might do it, but if by the whimpering she heard passing by the spare room door, he will probably feel like shit.  Just another reason for to run before someone see her.  One look at him all with his withdrawal purple sunken eyes will crush her resolve and break her employment commitment.

With that in mind, the geologist jolted down a note about breakfast of either leftovers or whatever smells better than Alistair’s jockstrap.  She slap the post it note on the sheriff’s forehead after the General licked his drool all over the back.  She slipped on her special bright orange North Face jacket she used on excavations, gathered her gear, and purposely slammed the front door hard to rattle her neighbor’s front windows.  She noted no sounds.  Damn, the bitch must have left already or her sleeping pills killed her in the night.  Hopefully the latter.

It was easy to note which vehicles was hers along the wharf street.  Cullen bought his father’s old work truck when he moved back to Haven.  He sold nearly everything when he left Kirkwall, partly to erase that decade from existence.  She could not blame him.  When Cassandra called her in Ostwick about his failing health, she dropped everything and even passed up a full tenured position at Ostwick State so she could back home and take care of him. 

Alistair and Nate do not knew how bad the solider was then or even now, only that his years as a templar left him permanently scarred.  Neither man does not know that the bloody order of spec ops hook their soldiers on steroids to keep them controlled.  Evie only knew because Cassandra explained why Cullen was hospitalized in Kirkwall, while Astrid is a doctor and witnessed lyrium’s effects during residency.  Cassandra monitors him at work. Astrid reviews his charts when he gets new blood work done during checkups in Redcliffe, away from Haven so the small town does not realize what happened to the once strong and heroic officer. 

However, Evie still stays with Cullen when the fevers nearly break him or when he has a panic attack.  Every time she must stay in Orzammar or go to a conference, she fears she will get a call that he died alone in that damn studio apartment from fevers or seizures.  Maker, the geologist should have just quit her post-doctorate position and moved back to Haven with him like she wanted to a year ago.  Her older brother Rian even proclaimed he would defect the Trevelyans asking why she needed to escape that blasted city-state like it was on fire.  However, Cullen begged her not to throw away her career for a broken and beaten man.  He stated he would never forgive her or himself if she had.  So, she arranged for Cullen and Cassandra to move to Haven, while wrapping up her research.  The last year was spent flying back and forth between Ostwick and Haven as everything got crazy in the shuffle.

_“I think I’m going to ask Cassandra to marry me.”_

Nope.  Nothing thinking about that right now.  Definitely not.

In stark contrast to old faded red Ford pickup was a dark grey Audi A7 that Astrid named ‘Griffon.’  It was her first purchase once she paid off all her student debt three months ago.  The car’s payments cost less than her past loans, so she quickly saved money for other items.  Most of her family’s estate paid for covered her living expenses during medical school and her residency in Denerim.  Fergus placed the rest in savings so when she decided to work in Haven she had enough startup money. 

The crew believed Astrid would lose her mind when her parents nearly died one year to the day after Maya in a car accident.  In a hurry to get back to Haven after visiting their college children in Highever, their vehicle was t-boned by a drunk driver on a snowy interstate.  The drunk driver walked away with only bruises, while both of her parents died on impact.  It really did not help that the driver was Rendon Howe, Nate’s father and town failure.  Now, he was spending twenty years in prison for vehicular manslaughter.  Nate still apologies profusely to the doctor like he was behind the wheel.

The youngest Cousland left college for a time to recollect herself, joining Alistair and Nate combating the Fereldan Blight virus outbreak, a horrific disease that historical toppled empires before proper cures were established.  All three served in the National Guard during the outbreak.  The nation’s government nearly toppled when President Cailan Theirin died, a man that was almost a doppelganger for Alistair with the same last name, but his mother Fiona denied any relation.  Apparently, even Cullen’s templar unit was deployed to the country, but he never admitted any specifics since it was special semi-secret operation. 

Thank the Maker the Blight outbreak was controlled within a year, specifically because of Astrid’s efforts to assist the sick and destitute in western Ferelden.  Once she decided she wanted it return to college, she received numerous offers from many institutions with full scholarships.  It warmed Evie to learn her friend wanted to study biology at Ostwick State, then return to Ferelden for medical school.  Seeing Griffon reminded Evie that Astrid grabs adversaries by the balls and rips them to shreds so she can continue onward, chin high and raven black hair waving like a majestic Hero of Ferelden.

Maker, Evie wished she could be that fucking boss for just once in her life.

Evie still remembers watching the news and calling her friends constantly about their wellbeing.  For a month, Evie thought she was the only living Pox’s member when all outside communication was severed by some lunatic general named Loghain Mac Tir.  Her own family lived in Ostwick during that time, because her grandfather had died a month before the epidemic happened.  Her family worked to divide the estate, some members more concerned about their loss income from the halted mining operations than the thousands of people dying, murdered, or starved. 

Once the Blight ended, her father turned all control of Fereldan enterprises to Rian so he could manage the family estate.  Orlesian operations went to her older half-sister Patricia, while she and her baby brother Esme were permitted to seek their own lives beyond the family’s businesses.  However, the extended relatives remarked they must still contribute to the whole house and not tarnish their surname.  So, Evie became a lyrium and mineral geologist, and Esme studied computer science and worked in national cyber security in Denerim.  Rian lived in the Frostback Mountains with his wife Josephine in a nice fancy mansion, while Evie selected the most dilapidated duplex townhouse to remodel and make her own.  Patricia hated she lived below her inherited position, but appreciated Evie did not suck up the family money after choosing an underpaying scholarly career.  The geologist only wanted to spend her life with her best mates and forget her family status.

Ugh.  Sometimes she hated being a Trevelyan.  It was no secret they were wealthy, but Evie made sure she will never join that top-tier world.  Her sister’s pompous ego filled enough space without Evie contributing to the social disparities and wealth inequalities.  Rian and Josephine maneuvered through it fluidly while still acting like real human beings.  Esme lived on his laptop, while determining which government will fall today without speaking a word.  Little ole geologist Evie seemed like the black sheep of the family, and she loved it.

With the past haunting her, Evie rubbed her forehead, feeling the scars that cut through her auburn eyebrows and maimed her face.  No, the woman will never be like Astrid or being even a speck of dirt under her high heels while she is kicking ass and taking names.  She will never strong enough to govern her life fully.  The geologist was a craven, accepting situations as they are and never attempted to change fate.  Evie must accept that she is a steaming pile of mabari shit. 

The geologist noticed such feces on the grass exactly two feet from Alistair’s sheriff jeep.  It blocked her own gunmetal grey Jeep CJ7 Apostate with its iconic grill and yellow and burnt orange stripes just enough that she will have to drive through her side yard to leave.  Evie tossed her caving gear in her jeep, the doors and top put away until cold weather sets in about a month from now. 

She skipped back to the hound shit, her bright green eyes scanning the shinning black finish with the bronze strips along the four doors.  Of all of the Pox’s to become a police officer.  Alistair’s home life was the most heartbreaking out of the whole group.  His mother worked constantly to support herself and her fatherless little boy.  Sheriff Duncan, one of Fiona good friends and knew Alistair’s father, became the boy’s role model, teaching him to hunt, fish, and other activities typically done with a father.  By senior year, Alistair determined he was not college material and applied to the policy academy.  Right before he was meant to go, the epidemic broke and Alistair joined the National Guard, making a name for himself as a selfless leader who willingly helped the infected.  Anyone who doubted the man’s future goals shut their mouths after the outbreak. 

Once graduating from the academy, Alistair served on Redcliffe’s police force and even saved Governor Eamon Guirren from a crazy shooter.  Alistair got shot almost in the heart.  Astrid saved his life while they rushed him to the hospital.  She was in town for a medical conference and attended the governor’s party as Alistair’s guest.  The goofy bastard received a medal for his service.  When Duncan retired three years ago, Haven jumped on the opportunity to bring the local hero home to lead the county police office.  Maker, they probably regret that now.

Pulling her mind back the present again, Evie mischievously grinned and shifted her stance around the fresh mabari manure much like the soccer stars she watched last night.  She kicked it right across his pristine windshield.  “…fuck the police.”  She giggled, while walking back to her jeep with a little hop in her step.  Too bad her mud tires are going to ruin her healthy lawn in a few minutes.  Maybe Haven’s sheriff will learn how to park right after seeing his perfectly manicured cruiser smeared with the General’s waste.

 

* * *

 

By the time the Antivan music rang through the forest, Nate and Evie had been on site for two hours.  Only Evie’s climbing buddy would blast romantic Antivan serenades throughout the Fereldan Frostbacks.  He was the only other person she knew who could contort and slip through tight spots without forgoing gear or pulling a muscle.  Evie had nearly twenty years of yoga, gymnastics, and dancing to explain her limber body, but Zevran Arainai’s flexibility stemmed from performing the most erotic sexual positions that would even make PornVid blush.  Not like Evie knew.  The elf offered his intimate abilities numerous times when she lost her temper or fell during climbing practices, but he was definitely not her type.  She preferred men and woman whose number of sexual partners did not use triple digits.

“Why are all your close friends besides the Pox’s overly flamboyant men who are prettier than most women?”  Nate quizzed beside the geologist.  He awkwardly shuffled his stance while looking over his shoulder.  His hunter green ball cap kept his long hair behind his ears, while they reviewed information on her jeep hood.  Evie never lifted her head from her tablet and the hand sketched map they had developed of the surrounding area while waiting for the other people to arrive.

“Until last night, you turds were the most skittish, under-confident people in Thedas.”  Evie remarked, finishing her surface analysis.  She heard Dagna greeting the elf by his expensive rental car.  He must have driven directly from Redcliff airport and not stayed over in Haven last night.  “If I need a dating pep talk, bi or gay men are saints.”

“What changed last night?”  Nate countered, blinking quickly.  His horsetail shifted down his back and over his shoulder. 

Evie pursed her lips, envious of his board straight hair, while her auburn waves and curls broke out of her braids in the humid hair.  Sometime today it will rain.  Hopefully, she will not be down that hole then or the climb out will stink.  “You decided to go settle down.”

“Oh.  Gotcha.  That makes senses…I think.”

Evie hoped her bright green eyes did not betray her or that her voice did not have the venom she felt inside her gut since Nate’s romantic outburst.  She already spent her night mudding over the declaration and needed her full attention on the task at hand.  It did not help that she could feel Nate’s suspicious eyes scanning her.  The man was on duty, meaning his mind was focused and absorbing every detail around him like a ravenous animal looking for prey.  The clan called it ‘bear vision.’  You are fine under your eyes lock on a grizzly bear’s across the river filled with spawning salmon.  Then, just grab your ankles and kiss your ass goodbye because Nate will maul you to death with questions, teasing, or drilling depending on the situation.  From the burning feeling across her left cheek, it would be questions.  Nope.  Not looking.

“Mi amor!”  Zevran called as he and Dagna walked towards the gathered people. 

Solas finally exited his Saab, unamused by the overly expressive elf that waltzed up to the group.  He pulled up over forty-five minutes ago and stayed inside his vehicle to grade term papers.  That was never good way to start an exploration.  Evie always backflips thinking she does not need to teach or grade.  She hated the task while she was a graduate student because undergrads are _morons! **[1]**_   She still has a copy of a lab report that concluded a deepstalker fossil was evidence that darkspawn did exist and Thedas once was a magical wonderland.  From the look on the professor’s face, he read very similar answers to local questions.  Although, Evie figured he would actually be happy about a magical Veil and Fade spirits.

Evie double kissed Zevran on either side of his face like the Antivans and Orlesians greeted.  “The BDSM god himself.  Say, can you do me a favor?  If I give you a phone number, can you sex talk the guy about all the different ways you can bend your body?”

Nate pursed his lips to keep from overly chuckling.  “I’m so happy your back, Trev.”

Zevran shrug.  “Si.  Anything for you, mi amor.  Male?  Female?  Beautiful like moi?”

“Sheriff Theirin.  He knows his porn.”  Evie caught Dagna giggling into her shoulder.  The geologist told her buddy about the pranks last week.

“Handsome man.”  The elf cooed, rubbing his pointed chin.  His puffed cheeks accented his long temple tattoos.  “Do not worry about giving me his number.  It is better to keep connections separate, no?”

Evie kissed the blonde Antivan’s forehead.  “I love you, beautiful.  Let’s get started.”

Nate and Evie already set all the climbing and spelunking gear in place early in the morning so the operation could begin immediately.  Nate had other rangers in the area if an emergency occurred, such as a cave in or unexpected wildlife.  Solas and Danga had been part of such explorations before for the university, waiting and watching until their expertise was needed.  Evie informed everyone during their short walk between her jeep and the cave that the Chantry was not able to have a representative present today and may have Nate serve as their official voice during such dives in the future.  It had been awhile since any Discipline of Andraste artifacts appeared in the abandoned tunnels, mines, and caves.  Rian waited for Evie’s call to send any mining employees out again until the site was cleared of all historical items or information.  Her older brother warned he did not want to upset any specific group and get the company in trouble.  Evie knew he learned from her father’s missteps in the past.

From the initial discovery, the mining surveyors stated the cave entrance was a twenty foot drop before pinching to a two-foot by one-foot boulder crack.  The testers flashed lights down through the crack and stated it led to the cave proper.  At the time, there was no one skilled enough to determine if the boulders may shift or if a person could squeeze through.  Evie’s testing the last few days concluded the boulders were stable, originally one piece until thousands of years of water eroded the sandstone away laying on top the cave.  From the vegetation lying around the entrance mouth and fallen down the hole, she concluded it had been open sometime in the past, something resealed the entrance, and it opened again sometime that spring.  She concluded a flash flood or an underground spring broke the ground and exposed the cave to the surface.  It had been awhile since she discovered a new mountain spring from the glaciers.

Doing stuff like this was why Evie wanted to be a field geologist and not a rich CEO like the rest of her family.  Since she was just a baby, the Free Marcher loved adventure and visiting places not seen in ages.  She loved witnessing time through rock layers and understanding how Thedas formed and changed over millions of years.  She loved studying gems and minerals, discovering them in their raw forms mixed with basic rocks.  Fossilized opals and ambers were her favorites since they encase a living material into gorgeous rocks that people showcased at parties or wore to signify a future marriage.

Evie could not stop the deep groan that escaped her lips.  Thank the Maker she faced away from the group, reviewing her harness and carabiners one last time before turning and beginning her decent into the darkness.  Maker, maybe she should have just stayed in bed and watched Netflix with Maia the Mabari.  The hound loves the sappy rom-coms Evie watches during her period, the geologist’s guilty pleasure that recently tough Cassandra admitted to as well. 

Stop.  It.  Brain.

“Mi amor?  Is your harness too tight for your delicate folds?”  Zevran cooed behind her.

Of course his mind would go there.  Evie threw him a look over her shoulder, while pulling down her specialized rip-stop cargo pants.  “No.  Just smelled something bad down there.”

“That’s why she said.”  Nate rattle off without missing a beat.  Dagna giggled happily.

“Prick.”  Evie spat, adjusting herself on the cave’s edge.  She nodded to Zevran; the elf stabilized himself and the climbing rope to slowly let slack down.  Both people had a safety connection to Evie’s Jeep wench, a solid line if something tragic happened.  Two explorations ago, both people thanked the Maker for it when a wooden support fell away and struck Zevran’s shoulder during a vertical decent sending both people flying.  Thankfully, he did not break his collarbone, but he postponed any future surveys until he was well.  It still did not stop him doing handstands during sex, the lusty elf.

Evie flicked on her helmet light and snapped a few glow sticks to hook on the walls climbing down.  She gave Nate one last look before beginning.  “You buying tonight?”

“It’s Alistair’s turn.”

“Fuck.  We’re screwed.”

Nate grinned.  “The faster you get done, the sooner the elf purrs in his ear.”

“Perfect.”

The drop was easy, textbook example of how to safely descend down a dark black hole to a two-foot pinch.  By the time Zevran prepared for his drop, the whole hole was lit up with bright yellow glow sticks.  Evie told him to hold while she prepared the second half of their descent.  There was little room to move around so when both people were present, they needed to be set to continue without hesitations.  The elf soon joined her, confirming to Nate he was safe and adjust the rope and wench as needed.  The park ranger was a spelunker too, seeing the fun it was with Evie as teens.  Nate rarely allowed others to join him on his wilderness disappearance, but once the adventurer introduced the mountaineer to caves and mines, Nate ‘kidnapped’ Evie for exclusive hikes.

Every few steps, one caver would slid on rotting forest debris and crash into the other.  Each slip Evie noted Zevran’s growing lust quite noticeable with his tight jeans and strapped harness.  Maker, she wanted out of this bind quickly.

“You smell divine, mi amor…”  The Antivan mewled in Evie’s ear as they adjusted their ropes and hooks in the tight space.  “Orlesian?”

“B.O.”  Evie bluntly proclaimed, hopefully it would put off the elf.  It was not that he was not attractive, more that she just did not think of him that way.  “I haven’t showered in three days because I was exhausted after Orzammar.  I only went out for trivia night because I only know the science facts.”

“If I may be so bold to say you must be heavenly after a long hot night of ecstasy.”  Zevran assumed, tilting his head to the side.  In the yellow light, Evie could see his mischievous grin across his tanned face.

“Zev, are you hitting on me in a hole, surrounded with rotting forest funk, and a two foot space that can potentially drop us to our deaths?”

“When you put it like that, I would take you and make sweet love to you here and now.”  His eyebrows jumped repeatedly.

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “And everyone wonders why my vibrator is my only companion.”

“You have it with you?  This just keeps getting better.”

“Move, elf, before you forever lose your natural, inflatable blood bag!”

Nate called from above.  “You need me to get a night camera?  Could make you both millionaires.  We know Alistair will watch it.”

“Shove it, Howe!”

The squeeze through the two boulders would have been easier if Evie had not eaten so much food the day before.  She fit fine except around the ass and hip area.  She prayed that maybe her breast would give her an issue, but they slid through just fine.  Maya had the huge rack that could be seen from space.  Astrid was blessed with medium size mammaries, while Evie nearly cried every time she wore a sports bra.  Her B-cup disappeared as soon as the spandex squeezed her tissue into her ribs.  Astrid stated it was because she always stretches and moves so she never gains weight.  Apparently, her best friend never noted the gallons of vanilla ice cream she woofs down with Maia the Mabari while watching _Pride & Prejudice_.  The fat just clings to her stomach and thighs until Evie does a million yoga routines.

Before dropping completely though the boulder space, Evie tossed down a snapped glow stick to gauge the distance and landing area.  She will be following the wall another ten feet before reaching a clump of rocks.  The weird light gave odd shadows along the rocks.  There was something down there with them, like sticks, but there was little fallen forest foliage where Zevran stood and waited.

The geologist nodded to continue the descent.  Evie kept looking around, checking her surroundings with her helmet light, while placing hooks and glow sticks along the wall.  It was an open space with no clear exits.  Damn, this was just a large carving into the rock.  She nodded a few glints along the boulder surfaces that hinted to metal seams or possible minerals.  About four feet from the bottom, her attention turned to her landing.  The odd shadows slowly formed into a single color mass.  Not sticks.  Bones.

“Hold, Zev.  Bones below.  Let me adjust so I don’t land on them.”  Evie called upwards.

“Of course.”

“Turning.”  Evie allowed her body to away from the wall so she could brace her feet to land on a larger rock to the bones’ left.  Her behind barely touched the cave wall.  “Continue.”

Evie scanned her surroundings the last three feet.  Her special boots touched and gripped the boulder by the bones.  She snapped a few more glow sticks and tossed throughout the cave.  They easy hit the walls, confirming it was a single room with no other entrances.  Although, one wall was comprised of several boulders from a cave in.  A possible closed entrance into the cave system or mine?  It would explain her GIS analysis.

Evie slowly kneeled by the bones, pulling on the rope for more slack.  Her research eyes searched for the definitive signs of what it was.  It did not take long to determine with such a distinguishable skull and jawbone.  “Humanoid.”  She hated using that term, but Chantry dictates the scientific definition of any intelligential biped.  It always made elves and dwarves seem like they do not matter.  She could hear Zevran relay the information back up the hole to the two professors waiting above.  She could feel Solas’ eye roll from there and his question about which race.  “Elven or human.  Femur and hips wrong for a dwarf.”

“Anything to determine time?”  Zevran questioned before passing the information.

Evie shifted her helmet a little to catch a golden shine from between two small rock about two feet from the ribcage and skull.  She inched around above the mass, noticing something colored laid over some bones.  She knew better to touch fabrics without the proper equipment.  The geologist loved Dr. Lydia Finn’s archeology courses at Ostwick State.  She actually took the students to active digs and showed excavation stages and processes.

However, the longer Evie eyed the golden object between the rocks, the more she felt comfortable touching it with her gloved hands.  “One moment.”  She reached down and took the small item from its safe spot, noting the few scattered finger bones it laid beside.  She studied it, reflecting back to her years staring at historical and modern jewelry to pinpoint some sign of its time period.

Once again, the geologist did not need to review long.  Inside the ring was an inscription, only rubbed away by years of wear.  “Fuck.”

“Mi amor?”

“I got a time.”

“Ancient?”

“If 6-5-14:96 Atomic counts as ancient, I’m a bloody classic, dude.”

There was silence from her climbing partner.  Evie knew he was determining the best thing to say to the waiting researchers.  “Nathaniel,” the Antivan’s velvet voice sang against the cold stone walls.  “May I have that handsome sheriff’s number?”

“ _Now?!_ ”

“Si.  It seems our fair maiden has discovered a potential missing person.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] No offense to any undergraduate reading this, but I taught freshman history when I was a graduate student and quickly decided to never become a professor.  I felt like I was herding cats and teaching kindergartens quantum physics. 


	5. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" by Frank Valli

“Why did you let that guy call me…?”  Alistair asked out of nowhere.  His hands were buried in his sheriff brown jacket.  His wide brimmed hat kept the drips of water out of his eyes as he waited outside the tarp. 

Four pair of eyes stared down the gaping hole as the late summer drizzle caused the forest to become foggy and humid.  Search-and-rescue set up a large blue tarp over the cave and surrounding entrance to keep the rain out during excavation.  However, the group still got soaked completing their duties. 

Nate perked an eyebrow at the sheriff, noting his buddy wore the same uniform as yesterday because he remembered the mustard stain on the black tie was from lunch.  He must have redressed in the same uniform at Evie’s house and never went home.  When Nate left last night, the strawberry blonde was still awake, but slurring his words.  Maybe he and Evie should have not tricked the others into drinking two doubles one after another.  Nah.  Completely worth it to see Haven’s sheriff and one of the best ex-templars the Chantry produced look so haggered and miserable that late morning.

“What guy?”  The ranger asked innocently.

“The…elf?  No, it sounded like a woman though, but it wasn’t Dagna or Evie.  Was Harding here when you called?”

Nate’s exterior was still stolid, while he internally laughed sadistically.  Evie might have found a body down that hole, but the woman could still roar hysterically down in that cave as Zevran called Alistair in the most alluring voice, straddling a crack twenty feet below the surface.  He used the echo to his advantage, nearly giving the park ranger a chub.  Dagna blushed.  That Solas egghead muttered something in elven while listening to the telephone exchange.

“You must be mistaken, ser.”  Nate declared in his formal voice, deep and booming.  His eyes flicked to the taller Fereldan to Alistair’s right.  Cullen met his glance and smirked.  Apparently, the ex-templar knew what happened and approved.  Usually during such situations, he was all seriously and yelling commands, but with just the four of them waiting, he could be a little forgiving.

“Ugh.”

Then there was Cassandra.

Nate’s stern expression shifted enough to tell the seeker with his pouty eyes he was sorry to tease while the Chargers, Cullen and Cassandra’s search-and-rescue team, Evie, and Zevran recovered a skeletal remains of a missing person.  His girlfriend just blinked, clinched her jaw, and return to her guard by the cave entrance.  Maker, he will hear it later…although the angry sex afterwards will be worth it.

The ranger never allowed himself to break his professionalism before.  He always kept a formal stance since the Blight, but something about Evie living in Haven again ignited his inner terror.  Or was it just something about Howes making bad situations worse?  Every time they saw one another throughout the years, Nate and Evie got this little glint in their eyes to do something stupid and cheeky, but completely worth it.  The only difference between their childhood and now was that Nate was sneakier and Evie knew how to make explosives out of the most basic materials.  It did not help that Alistair was the highest police authority in the county, and Astrid could stitch them back together in a small bathroom.  If it was not for Cullen’s PTSD, they could use his military knowledge to truly outdo their past pranks and become historical legends.

“I called the medical examiner about the remains.  Depending on how soon Evie and the team can get the body to him, he can give us a time frame and cause of death.”  Alistair remarked, slipping his hands out of his brown coat jacket to rub his forehead, probably suffering from a hangover headache.  By his slanted lips, the sheriff decided to keep the potential prank discussion for later.  “It’s been awhile since we found a hiker or pilgrim.  Aveline is already compiling all known missing person reports.”

Nate grimaced, keeping his grey orbs focused on the shadowed hole before them.  One thing Nate never expected about being a park ranger was finding bodies in all conditions.  Haven was one of the last civilizations before the hours trek through the Frostbacks into Orlais.  Because it was a pilgrim site, it was normal to see a hiking pilgrim visit the town and attempt the journey on foot through the mountain range, hoping their distress and fatigue will wipe away their sins.  The summer pilgrim path from Haven’s Chantry through the Frostbacks was a favorite path.  However, most people underestimate the mountains’ weather conditions and overestimate their stamina and prowess.  To have Cullen and Cassandra overseeing rescue operations in the region made Nate’s job easier.

The park ranger prayed it was just a missing hiker and not a suicide.  The first remains Nate investigated was a suicide.  It was about a year after the Blight outbreak.  During the epidemic, he witnessed enough death to fill three lifetimes.  When he returned to Haven as a park ranger, Nate figured he would be returning to the calm forest and move past that traumatic time, especially following his father’s vehicular manslaughter trial.  Nope.  Life was never that simple.  The remains belonged to a former mayor of a small village called Crestwood in the West Hills Bannorn.  He had shot himself with a shotgun.  Little of his skull remained after the buck shot tore through his brain.  The man confessed in a laminated suicide note he purposely flooded the valley to contain the virus before it claimed the whole local populace.  According to the coroner, he has been there since spring.  They discovered him in autumn.  Animals and time left the body in a horrific state.  The ranger still cannot block the image out of his mind.

Since then, Nate adjusted himself psychologically every time they found a body.  When it was historical archaeological remains, he sighed in relief that it will not fall in his jurisdiction.  Last night while watching the Thedas Cup, he mentally prepared for the survey, praying to Andraste that either the cave was empty or it was a historical site.  He should have known the Maker would shit on a potentially good time in his life.

The ranger’s softening eyes fell on the harden woman to his left.  He half listened while she spoke.  “Until Dr. Pavus gives us more details that is all we can do.  Depending on the missing person reports, we will handle this in conjunction between the Arling, Chantry, and county.  Once we have specifics and a potential name, we will determine who will oversee the investigation.”  Cassandra never glanced Nate’s direction, but by the soft pink glow along her cheeks, she knew he was watching her.  She remarked once his stare gently caressed her skin no matter if she knew or not.

Cullen grunted, pinching his nose.  The tone broke Nate’s attention from his girlfriend to his best friend.  The blond Fereldan looked like the Void ate, chewed, and spat him out into a pile of demon poop.  He kept inching himself out of the covered tarp and allowed the drizzle to tickle his neck and frizz his untamed curly hair.  He wore the same cargo pants as yesterday, and his button down dress shirt should be thrown into the rag bin.  Nate smirked internally, knowing that Cullen’s clothes drawer was empty.  Once seeing Alistair and Astrid in the ex-templar’s clothes yesterday, Nate knew he would show up almost in his briefs.  The crew enjoyed annoying him by wearing his clothes.  Evie never did oddly, but it was her house.  She had her own clothes to use.  It made sense.

Cassandra also noted Cullen’s condition, her espresso eyes squinted and searching for the cause.  Everyone knew what the solider looked like hungover, but this was not it.  The hangover was present with his constant yawns and his hand dusting his mangy waves because he never showered today.  However, Nate saw concern in the seeker’s eyes.  Cullen and she were close battle buddies, sharing a bond that none of the other Pox’s will ever understand; well, maybe Alistair, Astrid, and Nate for their experiences during the epidemic.  It seemed Evie dodged the terrorizing moments between Kirkwall and Blighted Ferelden, the lucky bitch.

Nate felt a bit of jealousy pass his heart.  He quickly quenched it.   Cassandra and he spoke at length about her time as a Chantry detective in Kirkwall.  The news never fully articulated what happened in the city-state, so hearing Cassandra speak about the Qunari invasion, serial murderers, and the riots made everything very real.  Just like Nate, Alistair, and Astrid, Cullen and Cassandra experienced traumatic events and was forced to solve the problem themselves.  Cullen admitted to the crew that he suffered from PTSD, but never elaborating on the effects.  Astrid instructed the group what do during a panic attack or flashback.  The doctor and Evie handled the sensitive moments, while Alistair and Nate kept his mind focused on the present.

“Commander, I will handle operations.”  Cassandra proclaimed, stepping forward enough to watch her partner.  “Go enjoy your day off.”

“No.”  The commander snapped, dropping his hand from his nose and straightened his back.  He could not hide the shiver that ran down his spine completing the action.   “It is my duty, especially regarding remains.  It’s my crew that’s gathering evidence.  I wish to be present throughout the process.  No matter if this was an accident or malicious intent, protocol must be uphold.”

That was the solider Nate knew.  Every time the clan played fantasy roleplaying, specially acting like they were in the Dragon Age, Cullen ordered the mates around like a lion.  He loved waving his plywood shield and fencepost sword like a knight fighting dragon Evie.  Of course, Nate played the rogue archer who dodged and weaved around the Wicked Queen Astrid.  Good ole Maya sprayed glitter and shattered glass bottles like they were using potions.  The ranger would not be surprised if he still found glitter flakes along his scalp.  There was nothing like going to school the next day looking like a shiny fairy and getting bullied by elementary upperclassmen, but the boys toughed it, avoiding offending Maya in any way.  Cullen always threw Princess Alistair over his shoulder, demonstrating his growing strength.  The group still teased him about him twisting his neck after tumbling into Lake Avvar with Alistair following a cave raid.[1]

“Understood, Commander.”  Cassandra snipped, her eyes turning into slits.  “Don’t overdo it.”

“I never do, Seeker.”  The Fereldan lion muttered, scanning the area.  Several Chargers took photos and collected vegetation samples for testing.  All three people cackled.  Everyone knew Cullen pushed himself too far.  He threw them a maddening look that silenced them in an eye blink.

 _“The seeker just doesn’t want you showing up to Mia’s looking like the Dread Wolf, moron.”_ A radio squeaked on Nate’s belt.  The ranger smirked, thankful he kept the channel open for those below.

“Maker’s breath.”  Cullen grunted, running his hand through his wet hair.  “I forgot about the dinner tonight...”  His amber eyes flicked to Nate.  “Turn Eve off, Howe.”

 _“Oh I see!  I’m down a bloody hole with a dead body.  A rock could club me dead, and you all wouldn’t know!”_ Evie’s Free Marcher lilt flowed from the intercom.  “ _Furthermore, Mia texted me to remind you, knowing you will forget like a typical man.  Call your family, numbskull.  I betcha this woman would love to tell her family she loves them now.”_

Alistair blinked, pulling his own radio off his belt.  “Woman?”

_“The pelvis.  She had kids, a quite few as suggested by the separated bones.  I’ll have her out of here very soon.  We just finished boxing the bones and gathering any fibers and items around her.  I can tell you she did not fall down to the lower level until after decomposition.  They’re rocks from the two boulders that made the pinch.  She slipped through very recently, possibly when the entrance reopened?”_

That got Nate thinking, unclipping his own radio from his side.  “I know there were some earthquakes in the area this spring.  She might have slipped through the crack then.”

_“Possible.  I will check on any scarring on the rock with a specialized camera.  I will need a few trips here to gather all data for your investigation.”_

Cullen waved Alistair to give him his radio.  “Understood.  We will set up a rotations between the Chargers and the park rangers to spot you.  We appreciate you doing this, Dr. Trevelyan.”

Nate rolled his eyes.  Alistair chuckled.  Cassandra nodded in agreement.

 _“Rutherford, I know this is serious, but if you call me Dr. Trevelyan again when you know I_ hate _my surname, I will puke in your combat boots next drunk night.”_

Nate shook his head, trying to control his giggles.  Cassandra grunted in disgust.  Alistair panted Cullen’s back while the commander rubbed his neck.  The ex-templar smirked wickedly.  “She will kill me, huh?”

“Do it.”  Nate egged, elbowing Alistair.  “It’s been awhile since she exploded.”

Alistair nodded, rubbing his red goatee.  “And why the corner store is out of AA batteries.”

_“I heard that, asshole!”_

Even Cassandra broke her frigid expression on that one.

After another half an hour watching search-and-rescue workers support the team down the hole, the first bones rose in specialized plastic containers tagged and number.  Archaeology and crime science resembled one another thorough collection practices and categorizing.  Evie told the group long ago she worked on archaeological digs as the geologist consultant.  She participated in Kirkwall and Ostwick crime investigations in the Vimmark Mountains when skeletons were found in caves and mines.  She was certified to collect evidence in these situations.  Nate never guess they would need such talents so soon after she moved back to Haven.

A grey-blue Qunari stomped up to the officers overseeing the investigation.  Nate never spoke with the man directly, but he knew the Iron Bull.  The man was massive and someone you did not want to screw with.  During last fall’s wildfires, he alongside Alistair and Cullen kept the blaze away from Haven, while Nate and Cassandra coordinated at central base to combat the fires.  He answered to Cullen because the commander oversaw all rescues on this side of the Frostbacks. 

“Boss, they are pretty tired down there.  Sunshine [he meant Evie] has been down there since early morning, working nonstop.”  Iron Bull advised, blinking his one good eye a few times.  “Rocky’s asking to pull them before dusk sets.”

Cullen nodded, watching more evidence boxes rise out of the cave.  “Start the wind down.  The seeker is handling the paperwork and medical examiner, while I will continue working with the cave team.  Eve stated she needs more gear to thoroughly understand the time table.  We will reconvene tomorrow morning.”

Iron Bull agreed, slightly saluted.  “Sounds like a plan.”  His focus fell on a dwarf and a Fereldan man by the door.  “Rocky, pull them up.  Stitches, check their health.  The geologist has been down there the longest.”

“Aye, sir.”  Both men agreed, radioing down the hole.

After the last box of evidence rose from the entrance, Rocky sounded support to extract the cave team.  Nate shifted in his stance, his knees locking after standing so long.  Cullen looked worse for wear in the rain, gasping every once in a while, catching Cassandra’s attention.  Alistair walked around discussing patrols and site protection for when everyone cleared out for the night.  Nate glanced at his sports watch again, a gift from his sister Delilah.  17:43.  Dusk would fall in an hour or so.  They did all they could today.

“…Well, tell her she can come back tomorrow!”

Nate groaned, shaking his head.  He knew what this was about.  His grasped his radio.  “Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan, get out of there now.”  His tone was sharp and direct.  Evie was the most stubborn out of the group, which Cullen a close second.  Once her analytical mind begins, she will not stop until she understands everything.  Nate remembered too many times everyone dragged her away from a science experiment or the library because she would not take care of herself.  Cullen could be as bad, especially when it dealt with duty.

Alistair unsnapped his radio.  “E-vers, I’ll buy drinks at the Maiden if you come out.  Since Cassandra is handling the desk work, I’m free.  Come on.  You and I can gab at the Singing Maiden over a few beers.  I’ll even let you start a bar fight.”

There was radio silence for a few seconds.  _“Deal, but I get to choose who gets a knuckle sandwich!”_

“Deal.”  Alistair replied, turning off his radio.  His glaze danced to Cullen, still wincing from his hangover.  “You coming?”

Cullen shook his head, immediately regretting it.  “No.  I better go to that damn dinner.  Mia will have my hide if I skip out again.”

Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest.  “Get going then.  You need to go home and shower before you go.  You look like the mud in my boots treads.  I’ll fill the reports.  It’s your day off anyway.”

Cullen nodded, turning towards the hiking path by the site.  “I won’t argue with that.  Call me if there is a problem.  Bull, you’re in charge.”

Nate watched his friend meander towards the path, rubbing his neck and trying to stretch his neck.  Throughout the whole investigation, he turned ashen and irritable.  There was something going on, but Nate could not piece anything together.  He was missing some vital information to understand his condition.  Cassandra knew, possibly Astrid and Evie.  The ranger might have to go grizzly bear to discover the secret.

His girlfriend stepped towards his ear.  “You going to the Maiden?”

The ranger turned his head enough to grab her gaze.  “I got to log this before I’m done today.  I’m thinking a nice pot roast dinner with a Nevarran Red?”

The seeker’s espresso eyes lit up like Satinalia lights.  “With your famous gravy?”

“Which?”

Cassandra bit her lower lip, attempting to contain her grin.  “Do I have to choose?”

Nate shook his head no once.  “You handle your work, and I will see you at home, my Nevarran warrior princess.”

The seeker moaned and nudged his shoulder.  “Ugh.  Don’t remind me I’m royalty.”

“I could always rattle off your full name.”

She glared.  “Don’t.”

“You didn’t mind it last time in bed.”  He leaned over her shoulder right by her ear.  Her black pixie hair tickled his temple, while his hot breath ignited her earlobe.  “You know, against your thigh.”

Cassandra immediately blushed, mouth gaping and eyes flaming.  She shifted between her boots.  “I…”  She squeezed her legs together.  “I am going to leave now, fill my report, and met you at home.  I hope the pot roast is not the only meat we’re having tonight.”

Before Nate could reply, she shifted away, keeping her legs pressed together and tightening her behind.  The ranger watched, dazzled by the woman’s curvy bottom and swaying hips.  No matter if she is in combat boots or lace, he will want her.

Nate wants to marry her.

The thought sounded better and better the more he repeated it.

“You have it bad, Howe.”

Reality set back in.  Nate threw his best friend a look.  Alistair rocked back and forth on his feet, his hands in his jacket looking as innocent as possible.  “You know, you all can keep out of my business.”

“As soon as you stop digging through ours.”  Alistair threatened, stopping his swinging.  Something in his hazel eyes felt like daggers.  Nate’s instincts flared.  There was something there…right?  No, Alistair is a saint.  He was probably meaning all the pranks and high jinks.

Nate shrugged.  “I wouldn’t be a rogue if I didn’t know everything going on.”

Alistair turned away, noting the auburn haired woman emerging out of the hole covered in dirt and grime.  “Sometimes, some things should be kept to themselves.  We all are getting to the age where that is truer than ever.”

“Like my feelings towards Cassie?”  Mentally he thought of Cullen’s appearance and potential secret.  Was that what he was warning?  Did the sheriff know?

Alistair perked an eyebrow.  “If and when you two marry, she will be a Pox.  She knows it, and we do too.  Maybe this will be an opportunity for us to respect one another’s privacy.”

Instantly, the ranger glanced to where he watched his girlfriend walk away.  She was at the top of hill on the other side of the site.  Good, she did not hear the sheriff’s comment.  Slowly turning his head back, Nate eyed the strawberry blond man closely, crossing his arms over his chest.  He expected such realizations from Astrid or Evie, but not him.  People underestimated Alistair.  When he turned serious like now, a person listens.  He was goof, but it was mask, an ability to misdirect or doubt the idiot.  Nate learned long ago to always second guess the man, assume his words meant multiple meanings.  Although, none of the meanings every came out as anything.  Maybe the ranger’s paranoia still nagged him since high school or living with his father.  He always struggled with trust like Evie.  “First I got to see if that is even in the plans.  Aren’t we jumping the gun a little?”

Alistair burst out laughing, grabbing Evie’s attention by the cave entrance.  Thankfully she was far enough away to not hear the exchange.  “Nathaniel Andrew Howe, I cannot think of a day where you did not want something and it did not happen.  Just look at how you charmed Cassandra to date you.  It’s going to happen, we know.  What cheese will you have at the wedding?”

Nate smirked and rolled his eyes.  “The same types that will pair well to the booze you’ll bring, Theirin.  Oh, that’s right.  You always forget.”

“Ha ha, Howe.”

Nate waved his hand, waltzing towards Lace Harding, his fellow park ranger.  “Good bye, prick.  I hope you get another erotic call.”  He felt Alistair’s grimace against his back.

While discussing security with Harding and schedules, Nate’s mind wondered about everything.  Alistair was right about how the ranger never lets go when he wants something.  He will continue to grovel or trick until he wins a bet or the woman of his dreams.  His father was the same way, but utilized the underworld to claim his wealth and power.  Nate’s possessive personality focused on doing good to bring honor back to his family name.  He fought addictive tendencies to stay honorable and true throughout his life.  With Cassandra, Nate felt those urges will finally disappear.

Now that his father was in prison for the rest of his life, maybe Nate can scrub away the Howe stains.  His mother, Eliane, died a few years ago, alone and poor because of his father’s mistakes.  His sister, Delilah, fed Haven to Amaranthine, starting a new life for herself with her local businessman husband.  The older brother and sister only reconnected after Astrid ran into Delilah in Denerim about two years ago.  His young brother, Thomas, accepted the Howe malicious tendencies, but thankfully left Haven before running the Howe name through the mud a few times.  He was always a drifter and took after his father.  Nate kept tabs on his baby brother, but lost track after their mother’s death.

Nate somehow survived his childhood.  His stealthy abilities stemmed from ducking when his father lost his temper or surviving alone for days.  Rendon Howe’s first prison sentence for business tax evasion introduced the loose cannon to a life of crime.  Losing his wealth and status in Amaranthine, the family moved to Haven to begin again where no one knew their past.  Rendon contacted former prison buddies and got involved with Carta and slave smugglers, leading him jailed more than being with his family.  After Nate’s mother divorced the loser, Nate and his siblings remained trapped in child custody court and avoiding his father’s desires of power and status.  The ranger remembered clearly when his father asked him to steal from the Trevelyans and Couslands.  Nate did once, but Ian Trevelyan, Evie’s father, caught him, advising him to not listen to a man who believes punching his wife and children is manly.  The son took the advice to heart.

Nate survived his youth because the crew refused not to give up on him like everyone had, especially Maya, his personal guardian angel.  He owed his wonderful life to those five people.  Yes, he still includes Maya in that.  She might have died eleven years ago, but Nate feels her presence every moment.  It was that comfort and belief that encouraged the mountaineer to impress the Nevarran tank.

Maker, he is happy he did.

 

* * *

 

 _Thirteen Months Ago_  

“Listen to this answer:”  Evie begins, readjusting herself on the comfy bench.  She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the diner table to see the paper properly.  “ ‘The Veil was an ancient division between Thedas and the Fade, the place people drift to while asleep.  Lyrium comes from Fade and permeates through the Veil to create lyrium seams underground.’  What a load of shit!  I taught these idiots for two weeks the properties of lyrium, and they give me crappy answers about a mystical barrier that allows lyrium through.  This is why the Chantry is ruining the educational system.  They teach mysticism and not bloody science!”  The geologist professor flipped the paper in the air and over her shoulder.

“Speak louder, Eve.”  Cullen mutter against his coffee cup.  “Mother Giselle didn’t hear all your blasphemy.”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes, and flopped backwards.  “Just because your former comrades worshiped the Chantry does not keep me from pointing out the faults in their religious teachings.  These students are old enough to expand their minds, but instead keep their heads buried in the sand.”

Astrid sighed, holding her elbows while her hot tea steamed in front of her.  She nudged her chin towards the sack of papers in front of the professor.  “Shouldn’t you have that already done?”

“Asty, I spent the last week running around Haven arguing with construction workers to get started on my duplex.”  Evie explained, rubbing her temples raw.  “Cullen’s rushing me to the airport in two hours.  By the time I land in Ostwick, I have to go straight to teaching freshman idiots.  Maker, I hate teaching and grading.  If Mr. Templar let me quit like I wanted, I would not pull all of you out of bed to eat with me before I leave for two months.”

Nate stretched his arms over his head, trying to expand his full stomach filled with eggs and toasts.  He nodded to Flissa the Waitress to pick up his plate.  “We’re usually awake anyways at…”  He checked his watched and grimace.  “Maker’s balls, it’s 07:00?!”  He tossed his crust at Cullen.  “Damn it, Rutherford!”

Cullen batted the crust away.  “This is the only time you all can see Eve before we drive to Redcliffe.  You know if I didn’t call you, you would have slept until noon.”  His amber eyes flicked over Nate’s head towards the front ringing door.  He nodded his chin to someone beyond the booth before glancing at Alistair.  “I’m still on the Val Royeaux time zone and fully awake.  Grow up.”

Alistair burped into his fist.  “I don’t know why you’re complaining, Nate.  I’ve been running the morning shift for three months now to give Aveline some time to adjust to Haven.  She and her husband still can’t sleep because it is too quiet.”  He nudged Cullen to his right.  “What did Kirkwall sound like?”

Cullen glared at his friend.  “A warzone.”

Astrid sipped her tea.  “Or the ER.  I just got off a four twelve-hour shifts.  After seeing Evie off, I am worshipping my bed like the holy sanctuary it is.”

“Want company?”  Nate wiggled his eyebrows at the doctor on his right.

“Just because that Cassandra has blown you off since the moment you saw her does not mean you can ask any other woman to your bed.  How about showing you can be descent person and can be with only one person.  It is no secret in town you are a one-night stand kind of guy.”  Astrid lectured the park ranger.

“It’s easier.  No strings attached.  This seeker hasn’t figured out that all I’m simply looking for is some companionship.”  Nate defended, holding your hands up.

“And there’s the rub.”  Evie deadpanned, eying the black haired man.  “You cannot use women, Nate.  I know that personally.”

“Fucking bastard…”  Cullen mumbled to himself.  “Still have the mind to go back there and shoot him in the head.”

“I betcha Kirkwall would appreciate you shooting their great Champion, Rutherford.”  Evie remarked, flicking a crumb off the student papers.

Alistair blinked a few times, hopping in his seat to see beyond their booth.  “Speaking of former Kirkwall residents…she’s here, lover boy.”

“R-really!”  Nate squeaked, then suddenly sank in the booth.  His belt utility knife rubbed against the red patting, sounding like farting.  He winced and covered his mouth.

Alistair and Evie burst out laughing, high fiving one another.  Cullen chuckled against his coffee mug.  Astrid’s right eyebrow perked as she glanced over her shoulder.  The seeker sat two booths down from the group along the open windows.  “I’m not sure if you’re actually looking for a quickie, Howe.  That sounded like an anxious yell.”

Nate cleared his throat and calmed his facial expressions.  “No…I-I just didn’t want her to come over here without putting on my game face.”

Evie just rolled her bright green eyes.  “And Patricia is an empress.”

“She wishes.”  Alistair groaned.

“Give it up.”  Cullen advised, pressing his lips together.  His pink healing scar jumped out from under his stubble.  “Cassandra will never give you the time of day.  She is more likely to shoot you in the balls than agree to a date, especially after all those awful pickup lines you have been throwing around.”

“You want to bet, Rutherford?”  Nate straightened himself in his seat, threaded his fingers together, and rested his arms on the table.

Evie giggled wickedly.  “Oh, this is either bravely stupid or stupidly brave.”

Cullen set down his mug and rubbed his stubble chin.  His white button down shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.  “Terms?”

“Two-hundred sovereigns.”

“Only if she agrees before leaving the diner.”  The ex-templar added.

Nate pursed his lip.  “You and Alistair have to help.”

“She must agree for Saturday then.  She’s off work then.”

“Money by the end of the day.  Coin, not check.”

“Deal.”  Both men shook hands across the table.

Astrid glanced at Alistair.  “I’ll tell your mother you love her and will speak at your funeral.”

The sheriff nodded, hazel eyes wide with fear.  “Yeah.  Andraste preserve us.”

Nate reached down the six-person table and slapped a copper in front of Evie.  “You know which one I want.”

Cullen laughed.  “That chased Patricia away!  We were lucky back then she didn’t set the place on fire!”  The man stretched his back and smirked smugly.  “Easiest money I ever made.”

Nate pointed at Evie as she walked to the jukebox, skipping down the aisle.  “Evie threatened to burn the place, not Miss Prissy!  We gave a great show and even got Alistair a date to the winter dance for all his goofy moves.”

“Tuesday morning at Flissa’s diner was when my best friends all perished…”  Astrid sang to herself, while reaching into her jacket pocket.

Nate waited until the iconic trumpets and drums start into the famous tune.  He pulled a hair tie off his wrist to restrain his stringy black hair.  He grasped the spoon out of Alistair’s fruit bowl.   Lastly, he shook his jacket off and flopped it down on Astrid’s purse between the two friends.  Cullen waved towards the large aisle right before the lyrics began.  Nate wiped away any crumbles from his chin soul patch and twirled out of the booth.

It was no secret that Nate had great dance moves.  He always did his Michael Jackson routine for talent shows, usually winning the grand prize.  Only Cullen could sing out of the whole clan, so the ranger decided lip syncing was the safer option for the stunt.  Suddenly, fear gripped the man like he never felt before.  He never felt anxious with other women.  What was it about this person who made him try _anything_ to get her attention?

Evie rushed back to her seat before Nate began, giving the ranger the aisle.  Her bright green eyes flicked to Flissa behind the counter, pouring coffee into a customer’s cup.  The waitress snapped her fingers at Cabot the Cook, grinning ear-to-ear knowing what was about to happen.  The dwarf just blinked a few times before returning to his food orders, not caring if the diner will explode in a few minutes.

The jukebox was an old model with the iconic lights, vinyl records, but raspy cloth speakers from decades of use.  So when Frank Valli started singing, it sounded like someone using a screaming cat as a record needle.  Nate knew the song by heart, his mother’s favorite.  Nate prayed she was watching do this and giving him a blessing to have it work.

“ _You're just too good to be true_  
_I can't take my eyes off you_  
 _You'd be like heaven to touch_  
 _I wanna hold you so much._  
 _At long last love has arrived_  
 _And I thank God I'm alive_  
 _You're just too good to be true_  
 _Can't take my eyes off you…”_ [2]

Nate slid his feet against the white and black tile floor, slowly approaching Cassandra’s booth.  The spoon nearly touched his lips as he used it as a microphone.  His knuckles were white from grasping it so tightly.  His heart thumped in his chest when he realized the Nevarran solider still had not looked up.  Her espresso eyes skimmed across the open menu, more concerned about what to eat than the idiot slowly approaching while sing a golden oldie.

“Please tell me you’re filming…”  Evie asked, watching Astrid pivoting in bench seat with her smartphone in hand.

“Oh, I am.”  Astrid sang, shaking her head quickly.  Her long raven hair bounced against chest and shoulders.  “Delilah will want to know why it will be a close cask funeral.”

As the second set of lyrics began, he raced and slid into Cassandra’s booth opposite her.  He mouthed about staring and how no words can compare to her.  The seeker slowly lowered her menu from her face, glaring with such intensity that might blow the roof off the restaurant.  Cullen watched from down the aisle, smirking like he just got two-hundred sovereigns richer.  It was only a matter of time before she slung the park ranger.

Nate reached forward, offering his free hand to the investigator, breaking out into the chorus.   He kept his eyes locked on the Nevarran’s black-lined eyes, seeing her cheek twitch the longer he lip synced at her breakfast table.  Before she could slap him with the plastic menu he spin out of the booth to his feet again.  He waved back towards his friends down the way.

On cue, Cullen and Alistair rose as his back up dancers.  They allowed the ranger to continue mouthing, Cullen bowing to Alistair with his open hand.  Alistair accepted, laying his head on the ex-templar’s shoulder slowly waltzing like they were at high school dance.  Neither man had Nate’s finesse, but that was part of the charm of the stunt.  Every so often, Cullen dipped the sheriff, who popped up his leg like he was swooning.

Astrid continued filming, switching between the sheriff and soldier slow dancing and the serenading park ranger in his brown uniform.  Evie grasped her mouth, biting her shirt sleeve to keep from snorting and laughing.  Her sun-kissed face was beet red and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Right as the trumpet solo kicked in, all three men started clapping up and down the aisle, making goofy twists and turns that demonstrated how stupid the whole ploy really was, but not caring.  Once the trumpets blared, Nate raced down the aisle, slid on his knees to Cassandra, and lip sync right beside her bench seat.  He grasped her left head, singing right in her surprised face.

By now, the remaining diner patrons all stopped their meals and watched the show.  Flissa clapped and swayed with the buffoons, while Cabot just stared through the open window between the diner proper and the kitchen.  Haven’s elderly men who always gathered at the diner chuckled and talked to one another, remarking about their own attempts to get a date.  Customers entering the establishment stood and gawked, their mouths open and faces pale.  Haven’s sheriff, park ranger, and templar hero all danced and lip synced like they did not have a care in the world.

Nate decided he needed to go bold or go home.  He jumped off the floor, flipped backwards and rejoined his mates for the finale, dancing somewhat in sync with kicks and claps.  Evie rolled out of her seat, snorting so much that Cullen stopped and pointed at the geologist.    She pushed all her student papers off the table in the shift, so copy paper flew like confetti.  Alistair kicked a stool and slipped on some spilled milk disguised by the white tiles.

The ranger ignored the chaos behind him, slowly waltzing up to his special lady in long strides to complete the chorus at her side.  He reclaimed her hand, still hanging in the air from when he grasped it before.  As the music faded out, he pressed his lips to the back of her tan callused hand.  He kept bent over, one hand behind his back and shimmering eyes locked on the shocked seeker.

The whole diner filled with applause and whistles, breaking Cassandra out of her shock.  Her strong cheekbones flushed bright red and her mouth gaped.  She hung her head shyly, while rubbing her lips together.  “I…”

“You do not need to say anything, Seeker Pentaghast.”  Nate cooed, tilting his head.  “I only wished to express my feelings for you openly.  I hope in the future, I may be permitted to show them in a more _private_ setting.”

The Nevarran’s face blushed as she gasped.  “I…When?”

“Possibly Saturday?  I would love to cook for you.”

The seeker could only nod.  Her shining eyes glanced to the empty bench across from her.  “Yes…Please join me for breakfast.  We can discussed the where and when.”

Nate smiled brightly, his heart in his throat.  He actually was nervous for her decision.  No, this woman was not a fling, but a lady who could hold her own in a tough world.  He wanted to know this person, physically, mentally, and emotionally.  “Let me excuse myself from my friends, and I will be right back.”  He kissed her hand again before stepping away.  Her kissed hand hung there for a few seconds, while he returned to the booth filled with his childhood pals.

Flissa handed Alistair a bag of ice for his achy head from his fall, while Cullen waited, his surprise written across his amber eyes.  He had watched the exchange with intrigue.  Their auburn haired friend still laid laughing on the floor, while Astrid quickly typed on her smartphone, sending the video to everyone that she knew.  Nate simply reached into the booth for his jacket before standing again.

“It seems I’m out of a few hundred sovereigns.” Cullen admitted with a happy lilt in his pitch.

Nate shook his head no.  “Keep your money.  I just won the greatest prize of all.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I named the lake “Lake Avvar” because I read on the wiki that in DA:O, the developers wanted to have an Avvar origin character from the “The Village of Haven”, but had to abandon the idea. Apparently, the quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes would have been fighting Avvar, not cultists. That would have been SO cool!
> 
> [2] I don't have the right for the lyrics, but I felt I needed to include it to show what Nate was doing.
> 
> I cannot take full credit for the whole dance routine. If you ever seen the move "The Deer Hunter," you will recognize the inspiration for the stunt. I fell in love with that song after seeing that scene.


	6. Lonely Hearts Club Band

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something for the lonely hearts out there tonight. Alistair and Evie are with you there...
> 
> Chapter Song: "Santa Monica" by Theory of a Deadman
> 
> Remember to check out "Marry Your Best Friend" song list on Spotify!

Once Evie’s rope and safety gear was detached from her harness, Alistair and she agreed to go home, clean up, and meet at the Singing Maiden about 19:30 for drinks and some pub food.  Now that the geologist was out of the hole, he thought about asking for a raincheck, but her apprehensive expression and glossy long stare made him reconsider backing out.  Evie might have acted like a jokester over the radio, but it was to redirect her true emotions while documenting and photographing a person’s final resting place.  He personally knew how taxing that was on a person’s mind. 

The sheriff did not plan have any real plans anyway, only to shower and fall asleep in his own bed after a tired few days…well, actually _months_ since summer was the busiest time of year.  Somehow, with the influx of tourists and pilgrims, theft and assaults increased, most committed by non-Haven residents who saw travelling tourists as easy targets.  They left by winter, but the crime records remained in the small hamlet.  It annoyed Alistair to no end, especially since such cases made catching the culprit very difficult.  Haven was a safe and peaceful hamlet that did not deserve a few travelers giving it a bad name.

Now, old discovered remains will further blacken the town’s name.

The sheriff will be first to admit his relief when the seeker stated they would share the workload until cause of death and identification determined jurisdiction.  After solving a few cases with Cullen and Cassandra over the past year, he felt comfort about exchanging information and leg work.  The Chantry provided more funds than the Fereldan arling, so they had more manpower available.  Once the seeker realized that missing persons and found bodies was not a new thing for the young sheriff, she openly shared her thoughts and observations. 

Apparently, Cullen forgot to tell Cassandra the sheriff served on Redcliffe Police Force for almost seven years before returning home.  In that time, Alistair slowly rose through the Arling’s ranks, passing the detective test before accepting the sheriff position.  Of course, everyone knew about how he took a bullet for the governor.  They called him a hero when he just saw it as part of his job.  Any decent person would save another, right?

Still, the summer rain bothered his shoulder.  The bullet entry and exit wounds healed and scarred long ago, but still ached the shoulder joint or his left lung gasped for air harder than the other.  Astrid stated he was truly lucky that it missed his heart and that he was young enough to heal right.  She was only a residency student at the time and present because he asked her to attend the function.  He just thanks her for keeping him alive while being rushed to the hospital, still adamant that he saw the Maker’s seat within the Golden City for a few minutes.  Alistair always joked it was a recliner rather than gold like the Chantry states.  That is usually when Mother Giselle throws the Chant of Light at his forehead. 

Divine providence maybe?

No, more likely stubbornness.

Alistair arrived at the Singing Maiden before Evie, no real surprise since the Free Marcher had not bathed in four days.  Alistair did not have the heart to tell her yesterday she smelled funky while sitting on the couch.  Knowing the geologist, she would have punched him in his perfect little nose and exclaimed it was a new posh perfume that was akin to Patricia’s Orlesian cologne. 

He took his motorcycle instead of the cruiser, not officially going to or from work, especially since he planned on a couple of beer, drinking responsibly of course.  He would not get stupid inebriated like the night before, expected at the hospital’s morgue early tomorrow morning.  He knew Dorian preferred to conduct his autopsies during the night to avoid interruptions.  The only reason why the coroner might not get it done would be if his husband, the Iron Bull, insisted they spend the evening together.  Iron Bull was still on site by the time Alistair left, so that was unlikely. 

Besides, the sheriff drank enough last night during the game.  Why he accepted drinking tequila shots after five beers was beyond him.  The shot glass seem larger than believed.  Most likely, the ranger and geologist got the others absurdly drunk on purpose.  Alistair hoped they felt bad since he and Cullen had to work anyway.  Probably didn’t, the jerks.

Flopping himself down in a wooden stool, Alistair, pulled out his phone and quickly sent a text to Evie that he arrived.  By the time he hit the send button, Varric wiped the varnished bar top with a wet rag and set down a coaster.  Before turning his attention away from his phone, the police officer checked a few work e-mails and decided they could wait until morning. 

“Ah, Sheriff!  A skeleton down a hole today, huh?”  The dwarf asked, his Free Marcher grunt quite noticeable that evening.

Alistair rolled his hazel eyes.  Oh, small towns.  News flew faster there than in Redcliffe.  Most likely, one of the Chargers told their spouse they were working late, who then told everyone at the general store, and Varric’s big dwarven ears caught every juicy tidbit.  “Yup.  Keep a lid on it, alright?  Don’t need a group of tourists visiting the station worried about getting murdered or something.”

The dwarf laughed a few times.  “Me?  Spreading gossip?  Nonsense.  I just tell tall tales to anyone who listens.  Besides, the lost hiker story gets dull after the eighth discovered remains.  Now in Kirkwall, that’s where a bartender’s loose tongue could cause problems.  You know, slipping about a medical student selling kidneys on the black market or drug addicts snitching on their dealers.”

“Good thing you fled the city-state, huh?”  Alistair remarked, pointing to his preferred on-tap Fereldan pilsner.  “Grab me a menu too.  I’m hungrier than a mabari right now.

“I didn’t _flee_ , Sheriff.”  Varric seemed offended by the innuendo, although it was absolutely true.  “That seeker just told me about a lil’ hamlet nestled against the Frostbacks that would give a writer some new material for his next serial.”  He washed out a pint glass, then filled the man’s order, giving the beer a little frothy head.  He placed the glass in front of the police patron before turning for a plastic menu.

“I thought she pointed her beretta at your head and threatened you to finish the next _Sword & Shields_.”  Alistair smirked, leaning against the stool back.  He shook off his leather jacket and flipped it behind him.  He tossed his hand over his spiky hair, making sure it stayed in place under his helmet.

“That too.  How am I am supposed to write when you hired the lovely married couple that inspires that smut?”

“Donnic and I served together in Redcliffe before he transferred to Kirkwall.”  Alistair explained, taking a quick sip of cool brew.  “When he told me his wife was originally from Lothering before the Blight, I thought they both would do well back in Ferelden and not losing an unwinnable battle in the Maker’s armpit.”

Varric’s eyes silted.  “Slander my hometown again, and you’ll get a gun in the face.”

“Oh, did you just threaten a police officer?”

“You know where to find one?”

“Ha ha.  Why are you here really, Varric?”  Alistair’s tenor voice turned stern, trying his best to look intimidating.  If Cullen was there, he would just blink, and the dwarf would shit himself.  Alistair had to give himself a pep talk just to look irked.  “It got something to with the married dwarven woman I always see leaving out the back and taking the interstate back to Orlais?”

Varric kept a relaxed demeanor, one eye brow perked.  “Where did you get that idea?”

“I’m a cop, Thetras.”  Alistair thumbed towards where his badge usually hanged on his chest.  “It’s my job to know what happens in my town.”

“I’ll forget about the recent gossip if you keep that particular observation to yourself.”  Varric’s eyebrow perked.  “Don’t want you to have to solve my murder.  The seeker will be crushed if I don’t finish my book.”

Alistair raised his glass to the bar owner.  He flipped the menu closed and set it on the bar in front of the stool empty waiting for his best friend.  “Deal.  A dozen honey chipotle wings and a grilled cheese sandwich.  Probably will need more food here in a few.”

“I will have Johnny Boy start the first batch then to keep you tide over for a while.”  Varric concluded and walked down the bar towards some other customers when Alistair felt his phone vibrate.  He winced, remembering the pattern was based on a porn star’s moans. 

Alistair glanced left and right just in case anyone else noticed the strange sequence of hums, before pulling out his phone.  The nearest customer was about four stools down from his spot.  Good, he was alone.  Expecting Evie’s response, he noticed the Thedas Instant Messenger (TIM) application icon blinking.  He glanced over his shoulder towards the front door.  The rain obscured any jeep engine sounds he might have heard.  He figured Evie was still driving if she had not texted back.  Feeling comfortable enough, he opened the app and read the message.

[18:04 Her]  Hope you get some R&R tonight.

Alistair started typing quickly.  He never imagined himself using such an application for texting, but it kept communication with this particular person disconnected from his phone number.  Her messages were one reason why he did not factory reset his phone.  Until he could find a way to save them elsewhere, he will bear with the moans and perverted vibrations his wonderful friends programed into the device.

[18:05 Alistair]  Kinda.

[18:05 Her]  Kind of how?

[18:05 Alistair]  Having a drink with a friend right now.

[18:05 Her]  Lady friend?

[18:06 Alistair]  Yes, she has a vagina, but just a friend.

[18:06 Her]  I can see you blushing from here just from just texting ‘vagina’.

[18:06 Her]  Anyone special?

[18:06 Alistair]  You know there is only you.

A minute passed without a response.  Alistair expected that would get _her_ to stop texting.  It had been that way since Redcliffe.  Every time he proclaimed she was the woman of his dreams, she quickly walked away—or in this case stopped texting.  Yet, she would resume the next morning usually like he never said anything.  They played this yoyo game for years, back and forth between being an item and ignoring their feelings.  She was the one who denied the truth.  Alistair will not stop trying to convince her that they could be more if they just let themselves be more.

“The one that got away?”

Alistair hit the home button and slipped his phone back in his jean pocket quickly.  Evie slung her wet hoodie coat over the stool back beside him along with a soaked Ostwick Oriels baseball cap.  She hooped into the seat and waited for Varric to serve her.  Alistair took another drink from his beer to give him a few moments to shift his thoughts.

The sheriff forgot he told Evie about _her_ , never giving a name but enough information to explain why he avoided the dating scene.  The few times he attempted to date beyond his yoyo lady, he was either got stood up or the woman left before the date was over.  He knew he was his own brand of idiot who worshipped cheese and oddly more obsessed with his hair than Cullen; that says something too.  His close friends liked him for him, not for being someone he was not.  That was why she was so important to him.  She knew and understood him just like his friends.  She loved his silly puns and thought him the most handsome man in Thedas.  She never judged him really, only that he refused to move on from her.  If she could only see how much they worked, fit together like puzzle pieces that formed beautiful images, she would understand why they were soulmates.

“None other.”  Alistair sighed, setting down his drink on the coaster.  “I think the only other person who would understand that is Varric.”

Both friends’ eyes flicked to a mounted dwarven four-armed shotgun above the bar named Bianca.  The bar owner spoke to the thing like it was a lover, most likely made by the woman the sheriff saw slip out the back once a month.  Varric loved telling stories to anyone who listened, but he told the sheriff once it was the one tale he will not admit.

“Love sick puppies.  Both of you.”  Evie sighed, flipping her soaked auburn ponytail over her shoulder to ring out.  “How are you not wet?”

“Motorcycle helmet.”  Alistair pointed to his perfectly sculpted strawberry blond hair.  “And driving all the roads between my cabin and here that are tree covered.”  Evie nodded and mouth a-ha.  “Just put your top up before driving home.”

Evie threw him a look.  “The jeep and I are already soaked through and through.  No pointing doing it now.  Still warm enough outside that I won’t catch a cold.  I still got a few more weeks before the Fereldan autumn sets in and takes away my Jeep happiness.  Nah.  Some late summer rain won’t melt me.”

“Maybe it will Morrigan.”  Alistair mumbled.  “One less lawyer in the world…What do you call a million of lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?”

Evie groaned, rubbing her temples.  “Fine, I’ll humor you.  What?”

“A good start.”

The geologist smirked.  “Exchange lawyer with Orlesians, and you might have a good joke.”

Alistair cackled, slapping the bar’s brass bar encircling the edge.  “You are a Fereldan born in the Free Marches, you know that right.”

“Eh.”

Varric came back towards to the couple with the grilled cheese sandwich.  He flopped the plate in front of the sheriff, while meeting Evie’s bright green gaze.  “Antivan Tequila, Monkey?”  The dwarf asked, turning towards the back liquor shelf.  Varric quickly learned when Evie moved back to always have the top shelf brand of tequila in stock just for her.

“Nah.  Drove here.  I got Moe, Larry, and Curly to drink two double shots last night after the game, so that’s enough for a while.  I’ll just have same as his.”  Evie smirked and pointing at his foamy beer, noticing Alistair’s daggered glare thrown her direction.  She just smirked and reviewed the menu waiting in front of her.

“I knew there was something fishy about those shot glasses…”

Evie bit her lower lip, her attention skimmed the menu for her selection of pub food.  “And the apple juice?”

Alistair hung his head.  “No wonder I was so blitzed, and you looked like a ray of sunshine.”

Evie bowed to the sheriff.  “Sorry, not sorry.  A Ruben sandwich with a side of cheesy bacon fries.”  She glared at Alistair, poking his freckled nose.  “And you can’t eat them all this time, Ali.”

Varric giggled to himself, while filling her pint glass.  “King got drunk last night?  When will you do that here?”

Alistair glared at the dwarf as he served Evie her beer.  “I’m responsible.”

Evie burst out laughing.  “Ha!  You always pull the short straw, thus the DA for the night.”

“DA?”  Varric quizzed, perking an eyebrow.

“Designated asshole.  You know, the sober one who ruins an awesome night.”  Evie explained, nudging Alistair in the side.

“No, that’s always been Cullen.”  Alistair corrected his best friend.  “Even when he drinks, he is a stick in the mud.”

“Curly?  Never having fun?  Shocking…”  Varric gasped sarcastically.

“Was he that bad in Kirkwall?”  Alistair questioned curiously.

“I thought his face was just stuck grimace until I saw you all together.”  Varric admitted.  “If I did not see it myself, I would have never believed it.”

“Cullen used to be more laid back before the Blight.”   Alistair explained, taking a sip of beer.  “Some bad shit just happened to us to make him really serious.”

Evie groaned into her beer, taking several gulps before swallowing.  Varric walked towards the kitchen to put in her order, allowing the soft pub music to fill the silence.  Alistair glanced at his friend, noticing the same trepidation she displayed last night.  “Copper for you thoughts?”

“Actually pay tonight, and I’ll consider it.”

“I always pay-“

Evie punched his good shoulder.  “Bullshit.  You might be awarded that knuckle sandwich if you don’t anyway.”

“Far enough.”  Alistair agreed, sipping his beer again.  “But really…why give the stink eye about Nate’s realization last night?”

Evie sighed, rolling her head along her shoulders.  She wore a black cotton tank top with khaki shorts.  She was barely dry from her drive, her feet squeaking in her ankle sandals.  A small satchel hung off one stool back post under her zip up hoodie.  A pair of silver dangles hung from her tan ears, while her signature amber pendant graced her neck.  Just with his question, Evie’s calloused hand twirled the teardrop stone frenzy.

The Pox’s knew Evie could never win at card games, her expressions written across her face and her behavior, especially if she was bluffing.  The underwear rule was established for her sake when they all used to play strip Wicked Grace.  If the clan had not, everyone would have seen her naked more than they would have enjoyed.  It was not like she was ugly or anything, but more out of respect and considered her a sister.

No one questioned Evie’s response the night before, despite all knowing there was more to her anxiety.  She never kept her opinions to herself no matter the topic.  For the geologist not to rant about the implications meant she concluded something that will be awful and quite likely.  The group realized long ago she was right about just about everything, seeing the outcome before all the signs were present.

Just like when Maya and Cullen were dating.

“Change…It means change from what we have cherished for eleven years, Alistair.”  Her tone was low and barely audible.

“Change is good-“

“-not this change, dude.”

Always the pessimistic.  “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t?”  Evie quizzed, meeting his hazel gaze.  “As much as we think we become a strong unit, Ali, spider threads keep us tied together.”

“Hey, I know you’ve see the spider webs in those weird column caves on the Storm Coast.  _Bears_ get trapped in those things.”  Alistair explained, pointing at her with his pinky while taking a gulp of beer.  “And bulletproof vests have been made from spider threads too.”

“Look how well that worked for you.”

Alistair grimaced.  “I wasn’t wearing that night, thank you.  It was a fund raising gala for the department.  No one was shielded when that lunatic targeted the governor.”

“And we’re not protected from what this all signals.”

“Which is?”

Evie blew out her cheeks.  “Typically, single friends don’t hang out with dating groups, but we all go through relationships like toilet paper.  Married friends really don’t spend time with single friends.  Something about weddings just differentiate the two groups.  Single friends look at married friends with envy because they want to reach that point of their lives, but haven’t found their soulmates, _if_ they even exist.  Even if one of us get married along with Nate, there will be another separation when one of us has kids.  Marriage couples rarely spend time with couples with kids.  Kids add this experience that only others with children would understand.  Even if we give our opinions, we are basing it on assumptions, not life situations.  What I am saying is that the Pox’s will reach different levels once just one of us gets married.  I am not saying none of us will get married or shouldn’t.  Just that much of a shift may strain us again until we drift apart.”

Alistair heavily sighed, rubbing his eyes.  She was not wrong, but she was not exactly right.  “I see where you’re coming from, but do you give us that little credit?”

Evie flopped back on the stool.  “No, more just preparing to be the last to not have a happy ending.”

Alistair huffed.  “You’ll find Mr. or Mrs. Right, Evelyn.  Yeah, relationships have not been kind to you, but don’t give up.”

Evie cackled to herself.  “Says the man pining for the woman who wants nothing more from him a random tossing in bed.”

“Low blow.”

“Still right though.”  Evie remarked, standing up.  “Come on.  Dance with me.  I need to move, while we talk about this bull.”

Alistair noticed the song beginning in the bar.  He played it at home a great deal when thinking about the woman he loved.  “Fitting song for it.”

The sheriff joined the woman on the open space near the jukebox, a better model than the diners because it played MP3s instead of records.  Evie’s damp head rested on Alistair shoulder, while grasping his neck and left hand.  He placed his right arm on her lower back, pressing her close to him.  His cobalt blue griffon shirt dampened from her wet top.  His chin set on her temple, listening to the depressing lyrics.  He immediately envisioned him texting his yoyo love in his mind, frowning.

Evie and Alistair always regarded each other a non-blooded siblings, never holding feelings for one another.  They naturally fell into those roles since the day the strawberry blond threw mud at her pompous older sister.  People remarked in middle school they should date, but both just laughed at the suggestion.  Yes, they held each other close even now, but it was out of wishing to have a shoulder to cry on.  People stated grown men do not cry, but Alistair did anyway.  It was a natural emotion that did not determine manliness.  Evie rarely cried in front of people, preferring a hidden corner to ball into.  Alistair always found her, crying together until both fell asleep or starting laughing about how much snot ran out of their nostrils, comparing lengths like gross children.  The woman proclaimed she found him strong and realistic, more masculine than any buff guy who never shed a tear.

“Why did she give up on you two?”  Evie whispered against his neck.

“She thinks it’s better this way.”  Alistair admitted, careful about his wording.  “At the time, if we attempted anything it would have been in a long distance relationship.  Now, it will make a complicated situation utterly disastrous.”

“Yet, you still wait.”

Alistair kissed Evie’s forehead.  “Yeah, because I believe change can bring happy endings.”

“Not before causing chaos.”

“Does that mean a person should not try anyway?”  The man questioned more to his yoyo than to his slow dancing partner.  “I thought we are all taught to walk the difficult path no matter all the potholes and cliff faces along the way.”

Against his freckled skin, he could feel Evie’s breathing grow more intense.  “That may be true, but once you fall off a cliff a few times, you start to reconsider the easier route.”

“Even with a few friends to dust you off and cheer you on?”

“Even more so…”

A few salty tears tickled Alistair’s shoulder.  Her eyelashes brushed his neck as she squeezed her best friend.  “I don’t know what happened to you, Evie, while you were gone, but know I will never stop cheering for you.  You deserve some happiness in your life.”

A few more tears fell from his friend’s eyes.  “A-and…”  Her voice hitched before continue.  “If you need someone to tell that bitch how much of an idiot she is for pushing you away, let me know.  I’ll call that woman and rant about how wonderful, beautiful, and kingly you truly are.  She is a moron if she not waiting at your house right now and begging on her knees for another chance.  Fucking the chaos and pain you two might create.  If I could give you anything, it would be a person to fill your heart with love and mirth.”

Alistair chuckled a few times, nearly crying himself as the song finished.  “I might that you up on that offer sometime, E-vers.”


	7. Disconnected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Handlebars" by Flobots

Cullen ran his hand through his styled hair, mentally wishing his migraine away before arriving at his sister’s house.  After having numerous nightmares last night, all the ex-templar wanted to do was lock himself inside his apartment and scream.  His hangover definitely did not help, while working on his day off only pushed his withdraw symptoms over the edge.

The smell of dark roast coffee and two panting mabari woke him from his last nightmare that morning.  It took him a few minutes to remember where he fell asleep that night, expecting to see his Kirkwall single officer’s room and its textured tan walls, not Evie’s spare bedroom painted a warm terracotta orange.  Astrid and she placed reminders throughout the room to alert Cullen where he was and that he was safe.  On the ceiling was a framed poster of the Temple of Sacred Ashes surrounded by mountain wildflowers, a digit clock flashed the date every five minutes, and framed photos of the Pox’s throughout their childhoods littered the walls.  Evie installed a landline phone by the bed just in case he needed someone immediately.

Maker, bless those two women.

Surana and Maia licked away the troubled man’s sweat and nuzzled against his arms to keep him alert.  Petting the hounds slowed his shaking until he was settled and relaxed.  The front door slammed shut about five minutes after he woke, most likely Evie leaving on the survey.  Knowing Alistair and Astrid were still asleep, he fed the hounds, put some coffee in a to-go cup, and decided to leave before his mates woke up.  His amber eyes caught the doggie drowl post note on the sheriff’s forehead.  Felling a little cheeky, he too added a note about liking limber porn stars on Alistair’s passed out cheek. 

Alistair knew about the ex-templar’s PTSD, an insisted detail the Pox’s women stipulated to him to share between the crew when he moved back.  Thankfully, the women agreed to keep his lyrium addiction a secret until he felt more comfortable about sharing his experiences.  PTSD attacks occurred more frequently than his withdraw symptoms, so having his mates aware of the signs will be very beneficial.  He primarily fled that day so he would not get an Astrid examination that usually included a long lecture about not taking proper care of himself.

Cullen had just finished his shower following his morning run when he got Cassandra’s call.  Evie and Nate found remains in the cave that were not historical in nature.  The discovery was not shocking since hikers went missing in the thick surrounding forest and mountains for years.  However, most remains appeared in late fall after most trees were devoid of leaves and ground cover was thinner.  It was August, the height of tourist travel and a two weeks after All Soul’s Day.  Very peculiar. 

The commander believed his shower wiped his stress and muscle aches away.  His hair follicles did not strike like electricity against his scalp while he attempted to control the curls.  However, the longer he stood and waited by the cave entrance, the more his migraine drilled behind his eyes.  The shouting workers and shrieking radio communication worn through any resolve remaining. 

The seeker kept studying her partner like he was an artist’s still life throughout the whole evidence collection.  Her espresso eyes darted across his face, waiting for one final sign before ordering him away.  No, Cullen refused to abandon his duty on site.  He will not have lyrium dictating when and where he could work.  Alistair and Nate probably assumed his hangover made him look like death. 

If Evie ever emerged out of the cave, she would have known instantly and order him to go rest.  The blunt woman would not have kept the secret if she witnessed how ill he appeared.  Somehow, the geologist knew when he was troubled or unwell.  Even Astrid did not notice the little symptoms Evie observed.  So when Cassandra volunteered to fill the reports, Cullen ran back to this truck to go home.

Now, Cullen was going to face his family in his worn and distressed condition.  He regretted cancelling on other dinners over the last year because he wished he could excuse himself now.  Mia’s house will be filled with Rutherford siblings and children of all ages.  His parents would not be attending, thank the Maker, despite still living on the farm land.  About four years ago, his father, Roland, turned control over to Branson to then take care of their mother fighting cancer.  Mia bought the farm right beside for a horse farm, expanding the Rutherford farming estate to over two hundred acres of crop and livestock land.  Rosalie just finished undergraduate school last Bloomingtide and will be attending Skyhold College for graduate school next month.  She lived with Mia to help her growing family between classes.

Being reunited with his family should have warmed the ex-templar’s heart, but only made him more depressed.  He lost contact with his large family during the Blight.  They fled Haven for South Reach, almost staying there after discovering their farm was destroyed.  However, Cullen’s father pushed the family home, explaining this was where they built their lives and could overcome the losses.  Throughout those troubling years, Cullen never contacted or visited despite having leave to do so.  The epidemic altered the soldier into a man he was ashamed of now.  The missions he and his platoon ran during that year haunted him nightly and still made him nearly vomit.  Yet, he still believed he was helping people as a templar.  Kirkwall’s insanity displayed how wrong he was.  All the special operations he coordinated and participated kept rubbing away at his sense of duty and honor until one day a few months after stopping the Qunari invasion, he woke up and could not look at himself in the mirror.

Maya was right.  Soldiers do not protect and save people.  They harm and kill.

If it was not for Cassandra and Evie, Cullen would have never returned to Haven.  Once he told the seeker he wanted to leave the Order, Cassandra advised him leaving Kirkwall to somewhere more stable and forgiving.  When Evie was called, she demanded that place be Haven.  Right as usual, she laid out all the positives for him to go home, including a friendship network that will not judge him and support him throughout his trials.  Cassandra arranged a career within the Chantry that entailed truly helping people and even agreed to move with him to the hamlet.  She too was done with the big city and needed somewhere more inviting than her own family and Val Royeaux.

No matter the positive facts that brought him home, the ex-templar believed his family was a negative consequence.  Even after living there permanently for a year, he rarely visited the Rutherford clan.  The few times he ran into a sibling in town, he rarely spoke or stated anything about himself.  Mia texted him constantly, asking if he was eating or if she could stop by.  He was rarely at home, spending more time at Nate and Cassandra’s house or Evie’s townhouse.  Cullen preferred to be near his friends or at work than alone in his lousy studio apartment with his regrets and inner demons.

The other reason to stay away appeared as Cullen’s truck headlights shined on the farm entrance sign.  ‘Cousland Mounts’ in big golden letters gleamed back at him.  Yes, he and Astrid were in-laws by marriage.  No one expected Astrid’s brother, Fergus, and Mia to get married.  They knew of one another because of the Pox’s and went to Haven High together, but never shared similar social circles.  They met in Highever when Fergus finished graduate school in accounting and business.  Mia travelled to the northern teryn to buy her first horses to train on the family farm.  The older Cousland lost his wife during childbirth of their son, Oren.  It occurred within a few months of losing his parents in the car accident.  Fergus and she exchanged e-mails and called throughout the buying process since Fergus balanced the horse master’s books.  Neither were looking for a relationship, but they slowly grew to appreciate their friendship.  That communication led them to start dating and finally married five years ago.

Cullen did not attend the wedding in Highever even though it was just a quick flight over the Waking Sea.  He explained his base needed him during a rebellious time in Kirkwall.  Fereldan Blight refugees were rioting for basic needs, causing the templars to be called.  Mia understood, especially since the only reason why they had the wedding in Highever was because the farm was still recovering.  It was the first of many family turning points that the ex-templar would miss.  Fergus and Mia’s first born, Lynton, was not the first born Rutherford grandchild.  Branson and his once long-term girlfriend from South Reach had Nash a year before.  Mia and her husband had their daughter, Willow, two years after Lynton, and his sister was pregnant with twins right now.

Travelling down the dirty road towards Mia’s large farmhouse mimicked Cullen’s own lack of progress through life.  When he was a high school junior, he envisioned himself becoming a templar and marrying his high school girlfriend.  Now, Maya was dead and he left the Order a broken man.  He missed the most important moments in his family’s lives and refused to share in any of their joy in fear of tarnishing it with his failures.

Surana and Maia whined beside him as he slowly approached the house’s drive way, seeing his brother’s work truck and his parent’s sedan already in front of the garage.  A familiar dark grey Audi sat behind Branson’s truck.  Maker, his parents will be here after all.  Astrid was invited too.  She will immediately know he is not well.  Maybe saying he worked on his day off will suffice their worries and deflect more personal questions.

“I’m going to need you two to keep me sane throughout this.”  Cullen asked the two mabaris sitting in his front seat.  Maia decided she wanted to be with him for the day, sleeping at his apartment with Surana, while he was at the cave site.  Both mabaris kept barking when he was about to leave, nudging their muzzles out the front door to join him.  They both must have noticed his concerns and anxiety.  “And Maia, I might use your aching joints as an excuse to leave, okay?”  The golden mabari whined and grimaced at his potential lying.  Her blue eyes stared at him to keep her out of his desire to bail, just like human Maya refusing to lie about anything.  Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck.  “Okay, I won’t, but I will still leave right after dessert.”  The hounds woofed in agreement.

Only one leg was out of the vehicle when a horde of mabari and children busted out of the front door.  “Uncle Cully!”

Cullen compressed his wincing as the two boys and little girl’s screams thundered through his throbbing head.  The General followed behind the pack along with Fergus’ war hound, Laurel.  “Hold up, you!  Let us get out of the truck first!”

All three kids latched onto his legs as Maia and Surana jumped out of the red Ford.  Willow and Nash hung onto his jean thighs, squeezing with all their little mights, while Lynton got tackled into a mud puddle by Surana’s licks.  Maia just sat and observed the craziness, glancing up at Cullen to make sure he was okay.  The General greeted the mother hound of his future pups before racing away to bark at some chickens.

“Mama was worried you wouldn’t come!”  Lynton giggled once Surana skipped away.

“Why’s that?”  Cullen asked, smiling a little.  The ringing in his ears made listening to the children difficult.

“She and Papa want to tell everyone about the babies.”  Willow whimpered against his knee.  “She went to the doctor’s.”

Cullen now understood why Mia texted Evie to remind him about dinner, and why Astrid and his parents were present.  She must know the twin’s genders.  They were expected by Wintermere.  Her other pregnancies were easy compared with the current set.  Every time he did see his older sister, she complained about morning sickness and back pain.  The most recent annoyance was that the twins kicked her bladder all the time.

“Well, let’s go inside and show her I’m here.”  Cullen coaxed the clan towards the porch.  He barely moved since Willow kept holding his leg.  He decided picking up the three year old would be easier than trying to get her to walk back inside on her own.  One glance at Maia and the old hound followed, limping partly in the drizzle.  The late summer rain was causing her problem, her paws spilling in the mud every once in a while.

Fergus built Mia a beautiful three-floor white and grey farmhouse with a full covered porch that circled the whole building.  The existing farmhouse on this land was renovated for the parents to live in while Branson took over the old Rutherford house.  The older Cousland used his part of their parents’ inheritance to establish his own construction company, the same business that remodeled Evie’s townhouse.  While his wife trained and showed horses in the barns, he housed his business in a side building and provided accounting services for Haven’s businesses.

It was not the first time Cullen entered the merry house, but he still felt like a stranger.  Anticipating the screen door slapping close, he glanced around seeing all the indoor lights on and burning his eyes.  Willow wiggled out of his arms to rejoin her brother and cousin.  The dining room table was already set for the full house, able to seat twelve people easily.  The living room to his right had the television blaring with cartoons for the kids.  Fergus and Branson laughed while sitting on the two couches about sports.  Each held a beer in hand.  Down the hall, he noticed his older sister shuffling around with her pregnant belly reaching her destination before she did.  She hollered at the children about tracking mud everywhere, sighing heavily seeing mabari paw prints on the kitchen tiles.  Cullen’s mother told her to relax and that she will help clean up later.  The closed bathroom door clued Cullen that was where his father was hiding from the chaos.  Stomps upstairs signaled Rosalie was getting ready in her room.

“It’s bad right now, isn’t it?”

Cullen’s squinting eyes shifted to an occupied seat in the dinner room.  A fern blocked his vision the first pass over the area.  Once he felt confident to step forward and away from the front door, he saw Astrid’s long raven black hair falling over her shoulder as she finished typing on her smartphone.  She bit her lip when the phone vibrated.  She grunted and shoved the phone back in her dress pocket.  She wore a long navy blue maxi dress that did nothing for her figure, but still made her shine like Thedas’ moons.

“The hospital?”  The ex-templar asked, pulling out the chair beside her to sit down.

“I wish…”  Astrid sighed, pulling her waves out of her vision.  She reviewed Cullen’s state.  “I heard you and Alistair had to work after all.  I’m surprised Cassandra did not send you straight home in your state.”

“Do I look that bad?”  Cullen croaked, glancing at the kitchen and living room to see if any family noticed he arrived.

“Yes, but I will play defense for you.”  The doctor promised, softly smiling.  “You didn’t sleep last night.”

“Do I ever?”

Astrid shook her head.  “I heard you moaning, and my room was not even directly above you.  If I heard you that means Evie did.”

“She never saw me on site today, thankfully.”  Cullen sighed, pinching his nose.  “She discovered the remains in the cave and wouldn’t get out until Alistair promised she could start a bar fight at the Maiden.”

“Better than her throttling you.”  Astrid remarked, tilting her head.  “We love you.”

“I know.  Just…the lights…”

The doctor smiled and stood up.  She shifted around the table, her maxi dress waving behind her like curtains on a breezy day.  Cullen could barely hear her voice.  “Brother dear, you’re lighting the county.  Turn off some lights and shut off the television.  The children are ignoring it with all this activity.”

“Right as always, sister.”  Fergus giggled.  The television noise disappeared as fewer lights lit the air.  “Was that Cullen I heard?”

“Yes, but he had to work on his day off.  Evie tricked us with tequila shots last night, so both he and I feel worse for wear.”

Maker, Cullen appreciated the Pox’s mother hen.

The former soldier heard the couches squeak as Fergus walked towards the kitchen, probably to tell his wife her younger brother was here.  Branson appeared in the dinner room opening, raising his beer bottle.  “Hair of the dog?”

Cullen shrugged.  “You know how pickled Eve is.”

Astrid patted Branson’s shoulder before venturing towards the garage.  She most likely was getting more beer for herself and him out of the extra refrigator.  “Some people would call it alcoholism.”  The doctor suggested with a slight smile.

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”  Branson laughed a few times.  “Last time I said that at the Maiden, she stated AA was for quitters.”

Cullen rolled his amber eyes.  “She would.  How you doing, lil bro?”

Branson shrugged.  “Trying to get Dad to stop working so much.  I tell him I can handle the farm, but old habits die hard.”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair.  “The man hasn’t stopped since he was born.  He will be fine.”

Branson clinched his jaw.  “He thinks he can still lift a fifty pound feed bag, Cull.  He pants everywhere he goes.  You would know if you came by.  Maybe he or Mom will listen to you.  You know, since you’re the prodigal son.”

Cullen held his breath.  Branson made sure his older brother knew his lacking attendance was known.  Mia might always sang to call and visit, but did in a way that did not drive Cullen to stay away more.  Branson stopped beating around the bush when Cullen moved back to Haven.  Somehow he knew Cullen was not going to leave town again, constantly reminded the ex-templar his missing presence was noticed.

After the eldest son left for the templars, Branson was thrusted into an adult position, especially during the epidemic.  Their father was not as young as he used to be, so it fell on Branson to get everyone to safety and rebuild the farm once they returned.  Cullen deserved the ire his brother threw at him.  He never defended himself.  Astrid stated once to at least tell his brother what happened as a templar, but Cullen barely told anyone, including his best friends what happened the last ten years.  The most he spoke about it was at therapy every other week in Redcliffe.

“I’ll ask, but us Rutherford men are stubborn as ever.”  Cullen replied, rubbing his neck.  “Astrid can give him a-“

“-Cullen Stanton Rutherford!”

“Oh, now you’re in for it.”  Branson smirked, taking a swig of beer.  “Nothing like a pregnant eldest sister to rearrange your guts.”

“I’ll rearrange yours if you don’t shut your mouth, Bran!”  Mia hollered, appearing in the dinner room with her hands on her hips.  Her blue eyes shifted to the seated sibling.  “Nice to announce yourself.”

“I found Astrid first and stayed seated.”  Cullen admitted, allowing his hand to drop from his neck.  “Sorry I didn’t respond to your texts.  Work-“

“-I know you got called in.  Evie told me when she called earlier saying she reminded you.”  Mia waved her dish towel at her brother.  “I too am going to sit before I fall over.  Mom, call for Rosalie and Dad for our grand announcement.  Fergus and I were going to wait until after dinner, but I might fall asleep in my food at this rate.”

“I heard you down the hall, Mimi…”  Rosalie called as she and their father walked into the room.  “Mom just pulled out the chicken, so we should be eating in about ten minutes anyway.”

Cullen heard his mother hissing from the kitchen.  “Lynton!  Put these hounds outside.  Not you, Maia.  You and I can ache together, hon.”

Astrid appeared behind his father with a few beers, handing them out to the adults who could drink.  She wiggled back to her chair by Cullen and flopped down with a grunt.  She shoved a local brew into his hand and leaned towards him, while the rest of the family spoke about announcing before or after dinner.  “Sorry I took too long.”  She muttered just to him, showing two tablets in one hand.  “Take these now before you drink that.  Hopefully, they’ll get you through this madness and home.  You need any more sleeping draughts?”

Cullen shook his head, immediately regretting the action.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Pfft.”  The Cousland doctor replied before smiling gently.

Sobs broke the secret conversations.  Cullen blinked in surprise as he witnessed Mia bawling into a handkerchief offered by their father.  “Mia, everything…?”

The eldest child waved at him to stop.  “Stupid bloody hormones.  These girls make me break down every five minutes!”

“Girls?”  Astrid cooed, perking at eyebrow.

“Well, I guess that determines that.”  Fergus sighed, pinching his nose.  “Couslands, Rutherfords, we are having twin girls.”

Mia barely squeaked between tears.  “Madison Eleanor and Elena Madeline…both girls’ middle names will be their grandmothers’ names.”

Willow raced into the room waving a photograph.  “I am going to be a big sister! See!”

Screams and crying filled the cramped dining room as the family members hugged and congratulated the new parents on their double additions.  Cullen’s mother, Madeline, cried into her daughter’s shoulder, completely honored by giving her name to her grandchild.  Astrid tearfully smiled at her brother for giving a child their mother’s name.  Lynton’s middle name was Bryce after their father.

The jubilation should have ignited Cullen’s heart, but it made him feel completely empty.  He nudged his seat away as he controlled his grimaces.  The hollering and cries echoed off the walls behind him, burning both his ears and made him fell claustrophobic.  The exits were blocked so he could not escape outside for some much needed cold rain and air.  Maia started barking at the crowds, whining constantly for the ex-templar.

Astrid glanced at the man beside her, gasping at the signs of a panic attack.  Cullen kept repeating the Chant of Light in his head, praying his PTSD will not flare in this joyous environment.  However, it just made the attack more apparent.  He prayed just like when he was in that cell.  The echoes of crying mimicked his fellow platoon members as they were being tortured-

“-Come now, everyone!”  Astrid called over the chaos.  “L-let’s get our plates okay!  I’m starving!” 

Cullen barely recognized the talking shifting out of the room.  He squeezed his glossy amber eyes closed as he rocked back and forth.  His mind was filling his senses with the same darkness and smell as that horrific place.  His prayers blended with screams of pain and pleading that almost brought him to his knees.

Suddenly, a terrorist guard nudged him to a standing position and out of his cell.  The soldier guided out and into the courtyard where rain poured over his beaten body.  He was going to get shocked again.  He never broke and gave away his mission or secrets, but they will keep shocking and beating him until he gives in.

“…Blessed are they who stand before

The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.

Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”

_“Cullen…!”_

“Blessed are the righteous, the light in the shadow.

In their Blood the Maker’s will is written…”[1]

“CULLEN!”

The ex-templar flashed open his amber eyes as a woman figure kept shaking him and staring him in the eyes.  Rain soaked through his clothing and the woman’s raven black hair, while two mabari barked constantly at his side.  His hand kept being nudged by one’s muzzle, acting as she was trained in those situations.

“Ast-“

Cullen barely had time to pivot and vomit over the porch as bile and whatever broth he was able to swallow at the cave site.  He continued to heave and gag for another few minutes.  Surana kept nudging her nose into his hand while he allowed the rain to pour over his cold sweaty body.  Astrid stood on his right, circling his back with a soft touch shooing and humming until he was back in the present.  Maia stood guard on the porch just in case anyone came searching for the pain.

“Thank…you…”  He finally mumbled, pinching his nose.  “I-“

“Go home, Cullen.”  Astrid ordered the ex-templar.  “I will give them an excuse for your quickly departure.  Maybe something about-“

“-No.”  The woman stopped and stared at the man as he leaned back and ran his hand through his wet hair.  “I have a duty to my family to be here to support them.  I will take my leave after the meal.  I will not let this ruin me or their lives.”

Astrid half smiled, but her light grey eyes shined with worry and sorrow.  “Stubborn mule.”

“She’s at the Singing Maiden right now.”  He half joked.

“True, although you’re quickly catching up to her.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed his neck.  “I suppose I am…”

Maia barked as the screen door slammed.  “Dinner!”

Cullen nodded before taking a deep breath.  Astrid kissed his cheek before rounding the porch to meet the announcer.  “We’re coming.  Just too hot in there.”

Maker, make this dinner go by fast.

 

* * *

 

Cullen does not remember eating, but his plate was empty.  He never touched his beer, only nursed the glass of water Astrid retrieved after he vomited outside.  As the doctor assisted him to his truck, she stated he did well talking during the large dinner, but he cannot remember what he said.  He only hummed when she walked him to the vehicle.

“You want me to drive you home?”  Astrid had asked tentatively.

Cullen shook his head, waving Surana into the front cab.  “You coming Maia?”  The golden mabari sat down beside Astrid, glancing up at the doctor with her big blue eyes.  “Okay.”

So when the ex-templar heard his war hound barking, Cullen knew he swerved into oncoming lane.  Luckily, no one was coming the other way as he course corrected.  His mind thumped with so much pressure and pain, he saw triple.  Hallucinations of trees jumping out of the forest into the road kept causing him to steer violently.  He could not hear the blaring radio, and only knew his therapy dog was woofing because he saw her mouth open every few minutes.

No, Cullen was not fit to drive.

Yet, the ex-templar’s studio apartment was across town from his sister’s farm, another reason he never visited.  Every time a Haven street lamp passed over head, he was blinded by the pain and agony.  At this rate, he might be best to pull over and call someone to assist him, but who.  Astrid?  No.  Her house in the woods was in the opposite direction.  If she stayed at Mia’s house after he left, his family will know he is sick.  Nate and Cassandra?  No, because Cassandra will tell his best friend what caused the ailment. 

Other names barely flicked into his mind, the pain from the weeks of torture sent phantom blisters through his body. It felt like it was still happening.  His mind slowly broke during those weeks, but he remained quiet. He started to forget names and faces on purpose to not admit why his platoon was in Ferelden.  Astrid might have pulled him out of his flashback, but the agony stayed and festered.

Suddenly, the green and white street sign “Wharf Avenue” passed his drive side window.  He slammed on the breaks, the truck sliding a few feet on the wet and stormy road.  He kicked the vehicle into reverse and turned left.  All instincts told Cullen Evie was not home, but her townhouse was closest and she knew the truth.  He could wait in his truck for her to arrive despite having his own key for such emergencies.

The geologist’s duplex townshouse appeared on his right, perpendicular to Haven’s Wharf District on a colisack.  The Maker blessed him in that moment because there was a long open spot on the road for him to park safely and without potentially hitting other vehicles.  Once he set the parking break, Surana danced around on the bench seat to go out into the darkness and rain.

“No…”  Cullen barely groaned, but the animal continued to paw at the door.  It seemed Surana had other plans.

The soldier groaned, kicking his driver seat door open.  In a whoosh, the cold rainy night air felt amazing on his sweaty skin.  His amber eyes flashed to Evie’s empty driveway to her uncovered front porch.  Her stone stoop called his name.  Edging himself out, Surana skipped out behind him and nudged him towards the door.  She must have determined sitting on the stoop would be best too.

“You’re too good to me, girl.”  He grumbled, hearing the truck door latch.  The hound followed beside him patiently as he used the truck hood and side to aid his lumbering steps.  He made it to the grass, nearly crawling all floor through the torn up lawn from Evie’s Jeep leaving that morning.  Finally, his hand touched stone and pulled himself up against her glass screen door.  He turned himself around into a seating position and gasped for air.  Small puffed of exhaled breath danced in the rain as he slowly laid his head against the cold glass door.  One of his last thoughts was how shocked and angry the geologist will be when she sees him like this, but at least he trusted her to do what needed to be done with his broken ass.

Surana sat down beside him enough so her tail battered his pant leg.  She faced the road, listening attentively for the iconic Jeep to roll down the deserted street to aid her ailing master.  The grey and white mabari whined once and glanced at him like she gave him permission to pass out until help arrived.  Cullen used the last of his strength to pat her side twice before allowing the Fade to claim him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Chant of Light, Benedictions 4:10-11.


	8. Call Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update. Real life has been crazy and has not allowed me to write for nearly three weeks. Find out about delays and updates, subscribe to my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thejeeperswife) to keep informed! Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter is slightly NSFW, not really. Some adult themes. Evie has a dirty mind.
> 
> Chapter Song: "Call Me Call Me" by Steve Conte (From Cowboy Bebop OST 3 Blue). The song is not on Spotify, but can be found on YouTube [here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xQYya5YcV-0&list=PLw4onCkm8zQZDIG8R4MBEfVmSeRDthOFJ&index=1&t=0s)

“Oh.  My.  Maker.”  Evie whispered as she pulled into her driveway.  The rain masked the streams of tears falling automatically from her bright green eyes, seeing the poor site sitting on her front porch.

Surana started running and barking between the parking spot and her master, making the most noise she could in the pouring rain.  The old red pickup truck was barely pulled to the side of the street from when he attempted to park.  The driver door was ajar enough that the overhead dome light blinked on and off when the wind hit it right.  From its dimming, it had been on for a while.

He _laid_ there _waiting_.

Evie nearly hung herself on her fastened seatbelt when she jumped out of her Wrangler.  She snapped it off and fell out of the jeep, slipping on the grass in her hurry to reach the unconscious man.  “ _Cullen?!_ ”  There was no movement, no recognition that she was there.  He never moved when Surana barked and howled.  Maker, please be alive!

Pouring rain met the woman and the man on the stone stoop.  The first touch of Evie’s cold hands to his neck nearly scorched the geologist.  He was on fire despite the refreshing rain dripping all over his soaked body.  His pulse was fast and jagged, but strong.  The fever weakened him, but he was alive.

Evie ran her hand over her wet scalp to move her curly waves away from her face.  Her mind ran hundreds of thoughts on what needed to happen, but in no particular order.  For some stupid reason, her brain believed closing and locking Cullen’s truck was the most important at that moment, so she raced across the front yard and completed the task.  She knew she was panicking, not well versed in emergency situations.  Evie relied on the practical and the long-term consequences.  She was never the nurturing sort.

Once she felt his property was okay, Evie raced back to the front door, quickly failing at on how to act.  To enter the house, she would need to move Cullen to open the screen door.  However, the geologist knew the man was about two-hundred pounds of muscle, while she barely hit 125.  She pulled at her wet strains, grunting and kicking herself for the situation.  The panic kept overwhelming her senses.  She personally wished for a few shots of tequila to settle herself down.

Finally passing her initial panic, the geologist knelt by the collapsed man, personally hoping he might awaken.  “Cullen?  Please wake up.  I-I am too much of a bitch-ass weakling to carry you inside.  I might have to get an ambulance or worse the Pox’s, and I know you don’t want them to see you like this.  It would take Alistair, Nate, and I together to just lift you.  _Please_ wake up, or you’ll leave me no choice!”  She knew she was rambling, but she did not care.  Her best friend was passed out sick on her front porch at 23:30.

The ex-soldier mumbled a little and listlessly moved his head, responding to her soft touches and pleading words.  “No…call…Evie, I don’t…”

“I won’t.  Stop being stubborn and help me get you inside.”  Evie picked up his right arm and threw it over her shoulders.  “Okay, use the screen door to push your body up and I will slowly bring your weight on me.  Come on, soldier.”

It took a few attempts, but Cullen got his dress boots under his behind to slowly stand.  Evie gripped his waist and arm with all her strength, personally damning herself for only doing yoga and no muscle building exercises.  Her friend tripped a few times, his bad knee buckling a few times until she moved him to the screen door opening.

Evie started mentally cussing, knowing her keys were still in the jeep ignition, while her big black purse sat on the passenger seat.  “Keys…?”

“…Front right pocket…”  Cullen groaned with little strength.

Evie bit her lower lip.  She had done enough of Cullen’s laundry to know he always has deep pockets that often migrated to his groin.  The Pox’s always joked he was compensating on his dick size.  As much as she shoved her apprehension aside, she felt strange running her cold hand into his lap.  She could envision Nate pulling down the street, remarking she was trying to cop a feel. 

The boys never knew it, but the girls already saw them stark naked once when they stupidly skinny dipped into Lake Avvar drunk.  Luckily, Astrid knew their plan and enlisted Maya and Evie to put a stop to the ploy before Sheriff Duncan arrested them for public intoxication and indecency.  They got a full view of the nitwits, something all three women both hated and enjoyed from that high school night.

“Oh, grow up, Trev…”  Evie hollered to herself, reaching into Cullen’s pants.  Luckily, his keys fell on the outside of his thigh, so nowhere near his junk.  A brief moment of disappointment flowed over her mind.  Really, Evelyn?  The man’s delirious!

In typical Cullen fashion, he color coded his keys with plastic tags, his templar OCD still governing his life.  She knew her key was red for her temper and hair.  Her fingers quickly shoved the key in the lock, and shoved the door open.  Her left side slowly buckled under the weight of everything.

“Alright, dude.  One step at a time.  Wish I could carry you, but I like living.”

Cullen’s head flopped on the top of her soaked hair.  His breath tickled her earlobe as he muttered, “Calling me fat…?”

Evie growled, slowly edging the soldier inside and passed her living room.  Her target was the spare bedroom where he stayed the night before.  If she placed him on the couch and needed to move him later, he might not have the strength or capacity.  “You scare fat into nothing, you brute.  There isn’t a speck on you.  Now me, that’s a different story.”

“Only…on your…ass…”  His voice was becoming hoarser the more he attempted to speak.

Evie immediately flushed; her skin burned from the statement.  The hallway wall allowed her to alleviate his weight on her person.  Water dripped from both people the further they walked into the townhouse.  She kept sliding in her wet sandals, yet her attention focused on his butt observation.  Cullen’s feverous, Evie.  If he knew what he said, the man would redden like the sun; the lobster still lived even after a decade.

Reaching the spare bedroom, Evie kicked the door open and quickened her steps until she could sling the man down.  His weight flowed with gravity onto the queen-size mattress; the springs squeaked under the weight.  Damn, that mattress is really old and probably hurts his back.  The soldier groaned, but understood where he was now.  He slowly pulled himself until only his lower legs hung off the side of the bed.

“I’ll be right back, mate.  Let me grab my purse and some towels.”  Evie waved, running out of the room and towards the jeep.  Surana stayed by her master in the room, licking his open palm to comfort the hurting man.

Once her personal belongings flew into the house, Evie locked the screen and front doors.  She raced up the stairs to the second floor bathroom where the linen closet was, grabbed several clean towels, and returned to Cullen’s side.  Quickly thinking, she grabbed the thermometer and Tylenol to both help with the aches and bring down his fever.

When she returned to the room and dumped her gathered goods in a corner, she noticed Cullen half reaching for his muddy boots.  “Freeze.  Let me get that.  Keep focused on Surana.”

“You…shouldn’t have…to.”  Cullen panted, each breath more encumbering than the last.

“Shut it.”  Evie snapped half-jokily.  “Don’t talk and just relax.  You’re safe here.  For once, let me do this for you.  I told you I would not leave you no matter what.  I’m not going anywhere.”

“But…”

“Be quiet or I’ll sing.”

“Talk to me…then…to focus.”

Evie bit her lower lip, successfully getting one boot and sock off.  Her shaking fingers struggled with his intricate ties, she did not want to demonstrate her fright.  Evie kept reminding herself that he was safe and alive, but what if she took longer with Alistair or went elsewhere.  What if Cullen tried to drive home and hit a tree or missed a curve-

A quick hitch hit Evie’s throat.  No, she could not think like that right now.  “H-how was…”  She cleared her throat to push down her worry.  “How’s the family?  Wait, I don’t want you talking.  Uh…Varric mentioned you always scowled in Kirkwall.  You know you have great teeth and a majestic smile, so why hide it?  Knowing you, you didn’t want the women swooning every time you were in uniform.”

The other boot and sock slipped off.  Evie grasped his hanging legs and pulled them horizontal on the bed.  She needed to get him out of those soaked clothes before he gets sick.  Her bright green eyes flashed to the Pox dresser, reaching for the middle drawer for Cullen’s clothes.

Empty.

“Those filthy pricks…”  Evie huffed, slamming the drawer close.  She checked Nate and Alistair’s spaces and they too were empty.  “Your horrible friends stole you clothes.  I’ll wash what is around so…”

For Evie to do that, she will need to strip him.  It would not be the first time one friend stripped the other.  Each Pox member have removed Evie’s puked-on clothes after bad nights of drinking because the woman knew how to control herself as much as a druffalo stampede.  There was nothing malicious or alluring to undress her during her inebriated states.  Every Pox had needed such assistance at least once in their lives except Cullen.  Cullen was always in control of his actions and never allowed himself to need someone in such capacity.  Yet, here he laid needing Evie more than ever to survive.

A part of her heart jumped in excitement.

“For fuck sake…”  The geologist hissed to both herself and the situation.  “Uh Cullen, I got to…get you out of these clothes.  Nothing personal or throwing myself at y-you.  Just that you’re soaked through and feverish.”

“O…kay.”

Evie inched herself over to his side, sitting down by his hip on the bed.  The simple action out of the whole awkward situation would be his shirt and undershirt.  She slowly pulled the half conscious man upwards, his arms slung on her bare shoulders almost like a hug.  Cullen’s chest pressed to her soaked body, feeling his fevered body heat through the wet material.  Her black tank top stuck to her body, easily showing she was not wearing a bra.  Her tank top was T-shaped in the back, and she did not have any bras that would have worked.  Now, the cold rain made her nipples point north like a compass needle.  With her best friend pressed to her body, he would know exactly where her boobs were under her clothing, _if_ he even made the connection.  That same excited voice in the back of her mind admitted it was not a bad thing, while all rational thoughts told it to mentally shut up.

Cullen’s iconic lavender, sage, and fire smoke musk flowed around her, immediately quickening her heart.  She thank the heavens she showered before going to the Singing Maiden or he might wince at her four-day stench.  Yet, the geologist would never grow tired of his fantastic scent.  She knew Cullen was a traditionalist in regards to his body and hygiene.  He shaved with a straight razor and used lavender soap to sooth his sensitive skin much like most men an age ago.  Nate remarked it was a feminine aroma.  Evie counter that argument with proven medical knowledge that lavender provided calming properties, especially for Cullen’s PTSD.  The ex-templar’s new hair products utilized sage oil known to assist memory, attention, and healing.  She recommended the natural product once he told her his hair actually _hurt_ with his headaches and lyrium may decay his mind.  Cullen’s rescue work brought him around Chantry incense and forest fires, so he always had the unique smoke and incense musk on his clothing.

Most people would still be able to focus on the task, but Evie froze, hugging the sick man for a few minutes.  He did not seem to mind.  If anything, his heart rate slowed the longer in her embrace.  Her fingertips tugged at the wet fabric, half-attempting to free his undershirt from his waist band to mask her desire to hold him close. 

Eyes and scent were her attractive weaknesses, and Cullen had both.  Evie melted every time she smelled him, the aromas combining in her nose and immediately getting her wet.  Most of her ex-boyfriends had an alluring smell or dashing eyes, but her best friend had both.  Yet, he was her best friend and could not allow herself to show she found him extremely attractive.  It did not mean she had to shy away from such striking features.  She stupidly laid her legs over his leg during the soccer game the night before, inhaling his smell with each breath.  She stated she was cold, but it was just excuses to fill her senses with his natural musk.  Maker, she needed to calm herself down.  That is why Evie avoided eye contact during the whole game.  One glance at his amber eyes with their flecks of gold and brown, and she would not trust her actions just like in that moment holding him up to undress him.  Evie was not going to molest, but it did not mean her body would not respond to the stimuli.  She was not an unfeeling machine.

Focus, Evie.

The woman pushed him away enough to separate the two soaking people.  With one tug, his undershirt and top t-shirt pooled under his armpits.  Slowly adjusting his arms through the shirt holes, Evie freed Cullen from his upper clothing and popped them over his head.  He groaned slightly, but smiled briefly.  She knew it was because the bedroom’s air conditioning cooled his exposed, wet skin.  Evie dropped the bundle of shirts on the floor.  One towel laid beside her feet, easily grabbed while holding up the man.  She bit her lower lip, knowing the next action will hurt the ailing man.  She slowly dried his skin and hair; his grunts muttered against her right ear as she tossed his damp blond curls.  The action agitated his migraine, but it was better than him falling asleep with wet hair.  Once satisfied he was dry enough, the woman slowly rested Cullen against the mattress and awaiting fluffy pillow.

In the room’s darkness, Cullen glowed because his skin was so pale.  Fereldans did not tan like Free Marchers, but his illness only amplified his blanched skin.  As her fingers slowly withdrew from his muscular form, naturally following his defined pectoral muscles and ripped six-pack abs.  Maker, he was gorgeous. 

However, dark pink patches of skin were highlighted among the majestic curves of his body.  Evie’s green eyes adjusted more to the dim light and gave her hints of the scars her fingers felt along his physique.  Cullen had been a soldier, so she was not surprised to see scars.  It was how large and textured they were that surprised her.  Cullen always asked her to leave the examination room when she traveled to Redcliffe with him or Astrid checked his health.  As a doctor, Astrid would keep his condition confidential even from Evie.  Even if her friend had told her, nothing would have prepared her for the long scars dressing his body.

Evie knew little about injuries, but torture was easy enough to distinguish from a bullet wound or stab.  It was the patterning and repeated scarring on top of another.  Evie only saw the front of Cullen, but knew she would see more evidence on his back if she turned him.  The texturing rounded his sides, over his shoulders, and under his waistband.  Most scars seemed at least five years old, but so horrific that they would never fade.

That explained the nightmares and PTSD.

When Cassandra first alerted Evie of his delicate condition, Evie assumed it was from the multiple battles Cullen fought over the last decade.  Now though, the scars stated that the torture seeded his anxieties even before Kirkwall’s riots and multiple invasions.  Those wars probably exacerbated the deep disorder that festered inside Cullen until he left the templars.

“Fucking…”  Evie stopped herself.  She did not want Cullen realizing she knew why he hid his majestic body that he once showed off after high school track practice with pride.  In the morning he will realize it, and she will no judge him.  He might call himself broken, but those scars demonstrated two traits she always contributed to the man:  strength and courage.

Evie took a breath, pushing away the anger growing inside her soul towards the Chantry.  Cullen needed her focused at the moment.  He still was quite wet and weak.  She left his side, threw the first soaked towel into her hallway with his shirts, and turned for the thermometer waiting on the end table.  She pressed the device into Cullen’s mouth, while she repositioned herself by his hip.

Now the difficult part.

The geologist’s hand shook violently as her fingers grasped the belt buckle and slowly undid the leather.  Evie caught Surana out of the corner of her eye.  The mabari eyed her closely like she could rip out her neck at any unneeded touch.  In return, the woman huffed and rolled her eyes.  She slowly disattached Cullen’s utility knife from the belt so she could pull it through the cargo loops.  Once it was free, Evie prepared for the uncomfortable part.

The woman squeezed her eyes shut as she reached for the cargo pant button.

A thought flew her mind.

“Uh Cullen…are you _covered_?”

The man huffed.

“Like no Commando Nate style?”  Maker, that was a nightmare in middle school.

He huffed again.

Evie had no true answer, but must help him.  “Maker, give me strength…”

Each moment, Evie’s long fingers felt frozen as she loosen the brass button and release the waist band from Cullen’s hip.  She bit hard on her lower lip, ready to look away as the zipper slid down to free him from his cargo pants.

A grey spandex waistband.

Once again, the woman’s heart felt heavy with disappointment.

For Maker’s sake, Evelyn!

Pulling the pants around Cullen’s firm behind had been a challenge, nearly slinging Evie across the room as she tugged.  Despite doing her friend’s laundry in the past, it still was a shock he was a boxer-briefs kind of guy; his package more define and so large that the Pox should never remark he was compensating.  Maker, apparently he continued to grow since that drunk skinny dipping night.  Evie wondered how little Maya handled his goods so well even back then and this was him flaccid and covered.

Maya was a lucky woman.

Evie sighed deeply, hanging her head, while her hands held his pant waist band around his knees.  Thoughts from the past wandered in her mind with that conclusion.  She would need a few tequila shots to push them back into the abyss for which they lived after so many years.  Since Maya’s death, the thoughts rooted themselves and poisoned Evie more than slowly disappearing.  Words left unsaid.  Words stated and never forgotten.

The geologist felt tears burning at the edge of her eyes, thankful that her wet bangs hid them from Cullen’s view if he glanced down at her.  She continued to undress him and wiped away the rain from his scarred bare legs.  Once completed, Evie grabbed a light sheet to cover Cullen and took the thermometer from his parted lips.  From his soft breaths, he was asleep.  His temperature was below one-hundred, but that could change at any moment. 

The woman gathered the wet clothing, pulling his wallet and cellphone from his cargo pants pockets.  She laid his belongings on the end stand along with the pain killers and a glass of water.  If he woke, Evie could give him the medicine quickly. 

The geologist took another towel and kneeled by Surana.  “Your turn.”  The mabari growled at her.  “If I dry you off and clean off your muddy paws, you can lay down by him in bed.  Until then, there is no way I am allowing you up there.”  The hound sighed and sat in such a way to let the woman dry her body and clean her paws.  Once satisfied, Evie nudged for Surana to jump up.  “Can you hold the fort?”

Surana woofed softly not to disturb the resting man.

“Good girl.  I’ll be back soon.”

Still soaking herself, Evie gathered the dirty clothes and took the steps to the basement.  She began a load of laundry of only Cullen’s clothes.  He will need them sooner than anything else.  Only afterward did she feel she could tend to herself.  First, she grabbed the tequila bottle and a tall tumbler glass from the kitchen.  She skipped stairs up to the third floor, feeling the last hour’s adrenaline waning.  She stripped quickly, throwing her clothes on the knitted rug in front of her king-size bed.  Evie placed the glass and tequila bottle down on her master bathroom vanity and filled it half way with fermented agave nectar.  She drank it in a few gulps and filled the glass again.  She would refrain from getting drunk so she can keep vigil over her best friend, but she needed to burn away the lingering pain and emotions nagging her mind and soul.   Evie took a few more gulps with the second glass.  She never realized she emptied the tequila bottle until she went to pour a third glass. 

The thoughts still tormented her and she was out of booze.

Reluctantly, Evie jumped into the master bathroom shower and only turned on the hot water.  The scolding water reddened her shoulders, but it warmed her shivering cold skin.  Specifically, it masked her tears and sobs so she could properly cry alone, defeated by the night’s events.

 

* * *

 

_Nineteen Months Ago, City-State of Kirkwall_

 Evie utilized her running momentum to shove the emergency room’s double glass doors open, nearly hitting a couple leaving the hospital.  She waved once, but kept her bright green eyes planted on the front nurse’s station a few feet in front of her.  She barely skidded to a stop before her hands slapped the white counter.

The attendant opened her mouth to only have her voice caught by Evie.  “Which room is Cullen Rutherford?"

The woman eyed the Free Marcher closely.  Evie could only assume her state of panic and frizzy hair explained the attendant’s wariness.  The professor really did not give a shit, only to find Cullen as soon as possible.

Evie could not remember the five-hour drive between Ostwick and Kirkwall.  She must have stopped twice to fill up gas, but the only mental image that graced her worried mind was her brother’s BMW speedometer hitting 105 in her race along the coast.  The Maker smiled on her for once for not getting pulled over by the police, especially around the shithole that was Kirkwall.  Cullen will not be pleased by her erratic driving.

If he was alive.

The attendant turned to her computer, typing the computer the patient’s name.  “Are you family?”

The only family Cullen got within on this side of the Waking Sea, she thought.  Even then, from his lack of communication with Mia, Evie was more family to him within the last five years than his blood relatives.  They rarely spoke on the phone, but texted constantly with jokes and rude comments.  She knew why the attendant asked though.  “His power of authority.  That enough?”

The attendant threw her a look.  Evie might start punching if this woman barred her from his status and seeing him.  “Name?”

“Dr. Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick State University.  I am Knight-Captain Rutherford’s friend and power of authority as registered in his Chantry templar file.  I am privy to all his military and medical information as signed by him and notarized eight years ago.  A Seeker Pentaghast called me this afternoon stating I was required for emergency medical treatment.”  Evie hissed, trying to keep her temper at a simmer.  She pulled her wallet out of her leather satchel and slapped her driver’s license down on the counter before the attendant asked for it.  If this woman wanted her to jump through hoops just because she was not blood related, Evie might burn down Kirkwall.  It would be just another day in the city-state if she did.

When Cullen asked her to be his power of authority eight years ago, Evie lost her mind.  The idea of him dying while serving was well known to the geologist, but she never considered it a possible reality until then.  She asked why wasn’t his parents or siblings.  Evie still remembered his bleached face and long stare.  Apparently, they had their own problems following the Blight than worrying about him so far away.  Evie lived in the Free Marches and he trusted her to fulfill his wishes if something happened. 

Cullen never gave details, but something happened during the outbreak that made him reconsider everything regarding his health and wellbeing.  He did not want his family privy to such information.  Evie and the Pox’s were disconnected and well informed enough to do what was best.  His parents and Mia relented and agreed his friend was more geographically available than his family.  He gave Evie permission to ask Astrid about any unclear medical advice since she was a medical student, but would prefer to keep most information to herself.

Evie prayed back then that she will never get the call.

The geologist was in the middle of teaching a lyrium lab when her cellphone rang.  Typically, she would have had it on silent, but her father asked her to be available to give her expertise during a conference call.  So, when she heard the ringing and the unknown number, Evie assumed it was the conference line.  However, she never noticed the out of city-state area code.  When she answered, the Nevarran accent hissing in her ear was strong and direct.  The woman had no finesse, definitely not in her father’s employment.  The Nevarran asked for Evie, while she replied that it was she.  The next moment, Evie dismissed her class while racing for the door.  Within a few calls, her father’s personal driver dropped off Rian’s BMW at her apartment so she could race to Kirkwall.

The attendant grimaced, reaching for the inter-hospital phone.  “One moment, ma’am.”

Evie arched her shoulders back.  Her face flushed as the anger for all that existed burned through her soul.  Oh, Void no.  Not one moment.  Fuck, not one _second_.  “What the f-“

“Dr. Evelyn Trevelyan?”

That Nevarran accent.

Evie’s bright green eyes flashed to a set of double doors separating the waiting area from the hospital proper.  A tan-skinned woman with strong facial bone structure and black pixie hair stared at her with dark espresso eyes.  She wore black Chantry issued military fatigues with an embroidered patch depicting a white eye on her sleeve. 

The geologist reeled in her temper.  She did not trust her voice, so she nodded.  Satisfied, the woman waved at the nurse attendant.  “She is with me.  Thank you.  Dr. Trevelyan, follow me.”

Evie grabbed her identification and fast walked to join the military woman.  “Detective Seeker Pentaghast, I presume?”  Evie offered her right hand to the waiting woman, although her bright green eyes burned angrily to mask her fears. 

The seeker accepted and shook it once.  Both women gripped one another’s hand tightly to show strength and understanding.  “Yes.  I heard your voice down the hall from the knight-captain’s room.  I thought Cullen was exaggerating about your short temper.”  The Nevarran waved Evie through the double doors down a busy hall.

Evie blinked.  “He’s awake?!”  A brief prayer of thanks crossed her mind.

“No.”

“Then-“

“Cullen spoke of you and your friends throughout the years.  He compared the two of us as women who could easily scare a dragon into submission.”  The seeker explained, meeting Evie fast walking down the hall.  Her combat boots slapped the tiles with each hard step.

Evie huffed.  “I _played_ the dragon, Seeker, during own childhood games.  If my heraldry serves me as well as it much as my etiquette teacher proclaimed long ago, the Pentaghasts ate dragons for breakfast.”

The seeker’s cheek twitched, bringing attention to the long deep scar across her jawline.  “And if memory serves me, Bann Ian Trevelyan now controls the Free Marches lyrium shipping enterprise.”  The woman stated the fact with venom.  “That explains why you are a geologist.”

Evie bit the inside of her cheek, tasting the copper from her blood seeping.  This was not the time to differentiate herself from House Trevelyan.  All that mattered was Cullen.  However… “What my damn family does not define me, _Seeker_.  I might study lyrium but not to fill my pockets with Chantry coin.  If anything, I would toss my family’s trade agreement into the nearest bonfire and dance happily among the flames.  I study lyrium to find ways to reduce its use as a drug and make it as obsolete as pyrite.   Its poisons living things as much as pyrite creates acid mine damage.”

The geologist waited for the seeker to holler about the ‘great’ things the Chantry does, but instead received a bright smirk and approving nod.  “I see why you’re his medical contact.”  The seeker waved her to the side as they both slowed down.  A few feet away was the emergency room nurse’s station and a wooden door ajar to a patient’s room.  By the Nevarran’s watchful eye, Evie assumed it was Cullen’s.  “What do you know about templars, Dr. Trevelyan?”

“Evie, please.”  The geologist plead before mentally reviewing any information she knew about the special operations branch.  “The military branch of the Chantry, trained to enact top secret operations for the religious organization.  I have several asshole cousins who are knights, but Cullen is nothing like them.  Templars take a steroid made with lyrium to strengthen they physique even though I doubt Cullen really needed it.  He trained most of his life to be a knight and is proud of his military service.”

The seeker sighed, shaking her head.  “You don’t know then.”

Evie blinked.  “About what?”

The other woman cussed under her breath.  “I know he spoke to you more than others, so I figured…Cullen is no longer a templar.”

Evie held her arm out to keep from falling over.  “ _What?!_ ”

“He retired from service last month.  His choice.”

Evie rubbed her eyes.  It was late, so maybe she was not hearing right.  “There is no way he would give up on his lifelong dream.”

The seeker sighed heavily.  “It was not done easily.  You probably have heard of what has occurred throughout Kirkwall.  I was sent here three years ago during the Qunari invasion and worked beside Cullen.  I too am retiring from active duty to serve the Chantry in Val Royeaux.  He and I discussed at length about retiring so when he submitted his request for discharge, I was not surprised.”

“Cullen cannot retire though.”  Evie whimpered, her mind thinking of all the consequences of such actions.  “Being a templar is a life choice because of…”  It all made sense right then.  The geologist knew why he laid in such a critical condition in Kirkwall’s emergency room.  Her voice was barely a whisper as the truth passed her lips.  “No one survives lyrium withdraw…”

Seeker Pentaghast hung her head, masking her surprise of Evie’s quick deduction.  “Yet another fact Cullen stated about you:  you have keen observation skills.  You would have been a good seeker.”  Evie huffed and rolled her eyes.  “However, your conclusion is somewhat off.  While yes, most templars are in the Order for life because of lyrium addiction, Cullen wished to combat his dependence on the steroid by fighting the withdrawal.”

Evie laughed and shook her head.  “The moron…there is a reason why you don’t see Chantry-owned addiction clinics and hospitals.  The organization uses the steroid to keep their knights controlled and dependent.  Medical research to combat lyrium addiction is never funded or backed because the Chantry does not _want_ a way out for their super soldiers.  There’s a reason why my family is fucking rich for their mining operations and shipping.  It’s also why I am not religious.  I used to get in fights with Cullen and Maya about the Chantry and its ‘holy duty.’  I am also aware of what seekers do to police templars so they stay dependent.”

The soldier growled and eyed Evie closely.  Evie will not mask her slant towards the detective.  Evie now regrets supporting her best friend in joining the Templar Order.  She did not understand what the Chantry does to their knights during high school.  Maya was against Cullen joining because they harmed, not for the fact they molded them into controlled guard dogs who did as they were told just so their lyrium chains never broke.

More realizations crossed the geologist’s mind.  If this Seeker Pentaghast was stationed in Kirkwall, it meant there was issues within the Order here, thus a challenge for Cullen’s command.  The geologist did not know this woman.  Evie’s loyalty was to Cullen, not the Chantry.  If Evie was not arrested by the morning, this seeker was either bad at her job or waiting to publicly condemn her slanderous comments.

“My role here is as Cullen’s friend, _not_ to the Seekers of Truth, _Dr. Trevelyan_.”  The seeker glanced back to the ajar door.  Her ears focused on that possible moment.  She sighed.  “I believe in Cullen.  I too disagree with the Chantry’s practices towards the knights.  Yes, it’s true that most people die trying to withdraw from lyrium, but those people were usually dishonorably discharged.  Cullen left under his own personal choice, knowing the risks.  We spoke at length about what will happen.”

“Yet, he is lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.”  Evie bitterly hissed.  She really hated this woman the longer they spoke.  Once a person was on Evie’s shit list, it took an Andrastian miracle to get off of it.

“Because he refused to properly detox.”  Seeker Pentaghast remarked quickly.  “We agreed to stipulations.  As a seeker, I can petition the Chantry for low doses of lyrium to ween Cullen from his high dose he received in the Order.  We agreed that I would monitor him for signs of possible heart and brain failure.  I was under the impression he was taking it.  Alas, like his lack of admittance to you he left the Order, he lied to me about weening himself.  I found him this morning unconscious in his apartment nearly dead.  I called you as soon as he was stabilize.  Evidently, he was saving the steroid until he might need it in an emergency situation, and almost overdosed.  Thus why he is here now.”

Evie rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “Let me get this straight:  he saw he was in detox trouble _dying_ from the withdrawal and combated it by taking the saved lyrium that sent him into an overdose?!”

“Essentially.”

“Fucking dumbass!”

The seeker smirked.  “Yes.  We are agreement on that.  He is alive and expected to live…for now.”

Evie paced a few minutes, trying to figure out everything she just learned.  She prayed that Astrid was here, she would know what to do, but she was in Denerim in the middle of residency.  The woman did not know which year it was most of the time.  No one knew Cullen was no longer a knight.  The news will crush anyone who knows him, thus probably why he never said anything.  Most people would view him leaving the Order as a failure, not realizing how _heroic_ the action was by cutting the lyrium chain.  The Pox’s would understand, but most people will not stand by him and see the truth about their blessed Chantry. 

There was one place that could support the ex-templar.  Alistair and Nate were already there, and Evie will follow Cullen anywhere she needed him.  For the first time since they met, _Cullen_ needed his friends, not the other way around.  His family was where the Pox’s boys were and could help get the man back on his feet.  With a support base, Cullen can survive lyrium addiction and show what the Chantry neglected to tell recruits until they were firmly on the steroid.

“He cannot stay here.”  Evie declared strongly.

“Agreed.  According to the privates who informed me he never showed up on base this morning, Cullen was still handing out lyrium doses.  There is no one in command at the moment, and Cullen agreed to continue serving until a new knight-commander could arrive in Kirkwall.”

Evie blinked.  “No knight-commander?  Cullen held command?  What happened to his superior?”

The seeker sighed.  “I should not tell you, but it might give you an explanation to why Cullen wished to retire.  Two months ago, he was forced to mutiny, with my support actually.  His commanding officer went insane.  Lyrium causes neurological effects, such as insanity.  It _eats_ away the brain.  His superior took thrice the dosage someone was supposed to for _years_ and slowly lost her mind.”

Evie bit her lower lip.  Her heart wrenched in agony for her friend.  “No wonder he wanted to leave and stop lyrium.  Maker’s ass…”

“Evelyn…”  The seeker began, meeting Evie’s long stare at the door.  “He suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from the experience as well as what has happened over his career.  He considers himself a failure.  All he repeats is ‘Maya was right.  Maya was right.’  Who is this person?”

A single tear fell from Evie’s eye.  “His girlfriend.  She died during our senior year of high school.  She tried to convince him to not join the Order…”  While Evie told him to follow his dream.  _She_ was why he laid in a Kirkwall hospital addicted to a The other woman’s voice croaked.  “Maker…”  She shook her head.  “I agree he cannot stay here.  It will do more harm for his conditions than help.”

“I’ll take him home…to Haven.”  Evie proclaimed, her eyes locked on the ajar door.  “His friends are there, his family.  We know he is strong and admirable.  Our friend, Astrid, is a doctor in residency and has been asked to work at the local hospital.  Alistair is the sheriff.  Nate…he’s a park ranger and can take Cullen places when people become too much.  I’ll submit my resignation at Ostwick State and personally bring him home.  I’ll give up breathing to save him.”

The seeker’s mouth gaped at Evie’s strong resolve.  “You will give up…”  She beamed.  Something else touched her gaze, but Evie focused on that hospital door.  “Thank you.  It is good to know he will be surrounded by such a strong support group.  You said Haven, right?  In Ferelden where the Temple of Sacred Ashes resides?”  Evie nodded.  “I think I can help as well.  You know he is not an idle man.  Furthermore, having a purpose will assist in his recovery.  Go stay with him.  I have some calls to make.  It might be time that both Cullen and I leave this cursed place.  Please…call me Cassandra.”

Evie smiled and offered her hand again.  “Nice to meet you, Cassandra.”

Cassandra shook the offered hand and smiled back.  “You as well, Evie.  Now go.  He doesn’t know I called you, but it will do a world of good if he saw you.”

Evie nodded and walked passed the woman.  With a gentle push, the geologist entered the patient room with a beaming smile on her face.  She knew he will be worse for wear, but Cullen needed an encouraging smile and strong will to keep him alive and well.  Evie could easily fulfill that role until he was safe in Haven. 

From the apprehensive glow in Cullen’s red slot amber eyes, seeing his best friend in the flesh brought him a step away from death and towards recovery.  “Eve…Maker’s breath.”

“Hey, idiot.  We’re going home.”


	9. Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "The Habit" by Lissie
> 
> WARNING NSFW!
> 
> I know! Shock! A smut chapter before Chapter 50! (If you know my other fan fiction "Fire In Your Eyes", you know Cullen/Evie did not get steamy until Chapter 50/51.)

Astrid slipped out of the kitchen, happy with the glass of Bannorn red wine she found in the cellar.  There was a collection of her favorite stored away underground, kept at a constant perfect temperature thankful to the surrounding limestone boulders.  The old larder stayed at a cool temperature to enjoy all the wine’s various notes.  Once pleased with her drink selection, the Haven physician opened the side windows to allow the summer night rain to cool the forest home.  The covered porch kept the drizzle out, while airing out the no-air conditioning old place.  She lit several tall candles and oil lamps, preferring the rustic lighting over modern electric devices.  It gave the pine log walls and open space the right ambience she craved.  If only she had a few charcoal sticks and some drawing paper…

All the local doctor wore was an oversized white button down dress shirt and her black lace bikini panties, thankful for a day not wearing scrubs.  Her raven black hair swayed and patted her lower back with each small step.  Her fair legs rubbed each other, brushing her aching groin waiting impatiently.  Her moon grey eyes studied the sitting-living room with no television and the assortment of childish stone and wooden figurines on the pine log bookshelves.  Her ears focused every so often to the back room where the washer and dryer ran through cleaning cycles.  Even if she had clean clothes at the moment, she would still prefer the oversized shirt.

Clicking nails tapped the stone walkway leading to the front wood porch.  Outside, Maia and the General wandered the woods, the night drizzle soaking the mabari thoroughly.  The General kept Maia on her feet in the mud, nudging her with his nose and side through slick spots.  The older hound sniffed for a spot to do her business before returning indoors.  When not listening for the washer, Astrid’s hearing tuned to the mabari hounds and any vehicles coming up the drive.  One of the benefits of forest living was when a car approached, it was for the homeowner, not mundane background traffic.  How did Evie and Cullen stand living in town?

The doctor continued her inspection, gently smiling as her soft hand brushed against the homemade wood furniture.  She knew its origins and meanings, a part of a simple life she entreated for so long.  There was a time she was content with life.  Astrid dreamed of an artless future doing what she loved and spending it with the person who shared her great passions.  So much was easy and forgiving then.

Then Maya died.

The event changed Astrid’s complicated life forever.  She was thankful to keep her childhood friends.  Those months apart nearly broke Astrid, lost at sea while swirling hurricanes of negativity and blame loomed overhead.  She always played the peace keeper, already consciously knowing the tensions rising between the friends before Maya’s infidelity accusations.  She defused the powder kegs many times, but failed to stop the inevitable.  Then, Astrid’s blonde meek friend died in that car accident.  Astrid could not fix death and loss.  She knew it was a fact of life, a hollow fact being the town doctor’s daughter.  Yet, Maya died before she could fix the wounds that separated the Pox’s.  The solution proposed afterwards was less than ideal, but served a vital purpose.  They all agreed to simple rules no matter if it was difficult.  The woman accepted the conditions although her heart hung heavily.  Astrid shelved her first wish for the sake of everyone she loved.  Those limitations saved the Pox’s, and they still stood together to that very moment.  Astrid willingly gave up her own happiness for the sake of others.

Maya’s death forced Astrid to adjust her life goals, but she kept her desires to be an artist, at least one life goal attainable.  Everyone who saw her coal sketches and watercolor paintings admired them, out bidding one another to take the art home.  Her parents were not thrilled she wanted to be a professional artist.  They believed she should follow a practical career like medicine that provided a steady rich income instead of uncertainty and possible destitution.  Yes, she showed interest in healing under her father’s guidance, but art was her great passion.  She never did anything without thinking her opinions through, once insulted that her parents thought so little of her.  She was an honors student who chose a university who will give her skills to create works of art and build a financial-stable business.  She imagined opening a museum or art studio in Haven containing many works depicting the Temple of Sacred Ashes and other religious representations.  Tourists would enjoy the location, potentially buying the artistic works and spread Astrid’s creations throughout Thedas.

During her freshman year, Astrid’s parents perished in yet another fatal car crash.

Rendon Howe’s pejorative choices took them away forever.

The youngest Cousland child snapped inside, the weight of loss and sorrow buckling the young woman finally.  She suffered a major identity crisis.  The Blight epidemic and looming civil war brought her to the forefront of death and destruction.  Nate, Alistair, and Astrid volunteered to assist Ferelden.  Astrid hated the idea working beside Nate, but she slowly realized it was not her friend’s fault.  He did not control who his father was and what choices that man made.  It was during that year Astrid realized she was meant for another life purpose.  So, she shelved her other wish.  She made art a hobby, one she barely touched since then despite her desire to paint and sketch constantly.  That same year also forced her to address her other life want-

“You know the General is eating my mom’s embriums out front, right?”

Astrid twirled around to face the front door.  Her face remained blank, but her eyes stung with regret and desire.  She knew he could see her hidden emotions.  He always had a keen sense of what her heart and soul screamed behind her moonstone eyes.  She just prayed her black bangs swayed into her face enough to hide the creeping blush coloring her fair facial features.

Alistair wore his black leather motorcycle jacket.  The dull sheen told the doctor he needed to re-mink oil it before it started to decay and crack.  His left hand carried his favorite navy blue biker helmet.  She had spray painted a griffon face and wings on the side for his birthday one year.  His other hand thumbed behind him out into his wooded lawn.  In the distance, her vision sussed the General rolling around in Fiona’s herbal garden.

“I mean, the pooch smells horrible right now.  Like when Cullen fell into a cow plop and no one told him his ass was nothing but dung, but we thought it was funny so we didn’t say anything until he sat on his mom’s couch and got chewed out and somehow I was the one leaving with the black eye?”  Alistair rambled, placing his helmet on the wooden end stand by the door.

The sheriff blinked a few times, studying Astrid closely.  His hazel gaze nearly made Astrid burst out crying in want and need.  Restrained, she kept her noble manner.  She cannot and will not break.  “You’re wearing my shirt.”  He concluded, giving her a perplexing look.  Mirth threatened her pursed lips.  How did he always make silly statements and rambles appear so charming?

Astrid pressed her wine-stained lips together tightly, cupping her wine glass close to her chin.  “I’m doing laundry.  I took the last of Cullen’s clothes and felt somewhat bad about it.  You always have laundry detergent.”  She lifted her wine glass.  “And my favorite wine.”

Alistair lipped ah-ha and smirked.  He put his jacket on the coat hanger by the front door and closed the outside door behind him.  Both Astrid and he knew there was a dog door in the back for the wandering hounds.  “Well, if it gets you to come over and wear my clothes, I can live with that.”  He commented, missing her brief happy expression.  “After all, we only live a grove away from one another.  You walked that game trail in this weather?”  Astrid watched as he tossed off his sneakers and walked around the couch towards the kitchen.  She waited, sipping her wine. 

“You got me cheese!”

The doctor allowed a brief smile before explaining.  “Thank Mama Rutherford.  The latest batch was ready this past weekend.  I guess Cullen doesn’t call enough, or you would have had it sooner.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.”  His tone contained both worry and annoyance.  His tenor majestic tone echoed from the other room.  She heard shuffling and grunts like he was fiddling with something.

“We’ve walked that path pretty well now, Alistair.”  Astrid sighed, sitting on the cream couch arm, her black panties peeking out from under the dress shirt.  “I think I can walk it blindfolded.”  Several previous occurrences flashed across Astrid’s mind of different actions both friends performed on that quarter mile path between her country house and his log cabin.  None of them assisted in dampening her raging hormones.

“Tell that to my broken toe.”  He hollered from the back room.

“Here I thought you were going to bring up about the poison ivy again.”  She replied, grinning into her glass.  Maker, thank goodness she was a doctor for that particular endeavor.  How would she have explained how the rash ended up _there_?

“Ha ha.”

Alistair’s soothing voice was back in the sitting room, causing Astrid to glance over her shoulder and see his bare muscular chest and freckled shoulders.  The red dots followed up his neck and across his face.  The more he walked outside that summer, the more they appeared and littered his pale skin.  He never truly tanned, only golden into an intoxicating _god_.  Alistair was stripping out of his wet clothes and allowed her eyes study his buff physique built over time hand chopping and working around his forest property.  Astrid knew she was gawking, and he was letting her.  His own hazel eyes outlined her nearly bare body sitting on the couch arm. 

Astrid returned to her feet just in time to set down her wine glass on a wooden table.  Alistair swooped over, grasped her waist, and lifted her easily in his arms.  Her back bumped into the front door as both of their mouths met in a fiery of kisses and tongues.  She tasted like grapes and he fresh cheese and Fereldan pilsners.  His hands hooked the back of her knees, forcing her to have him hold her up.  His hand crawled up her thighs and nearly bruised her ass in a monstrous grip.  Astrid sighed in happiness at both the pain and pleasure into his mouth as her red lips moved over his like he needed to breath for her.  She was not letting herself claim a breath, never wanting to miss a moment with him.

Alistair’s lips finally moved from hers down her chin and neck, feeling every rumble and moan escaping her body.  Her swiping nails clawed into his shoulders, neck, and into his usually perfect hair.  One of her favorite activities was messing up his crew cut, her way of marking him.  Only she was allowed to touch his strawberry blond strains, just as he was the only man permitted to see her heart and know her thoughts.

“Maker, Asty.”  He groaned as his hands snaked towards her core.  His fingertips only grazed her covered folds and she nearly climaxed.  “You’re ready for me.  I’m sorry I made you wait.  You should have texted a reply, or I would have not dallied with Evie.”

Of course Alistair understood her messaging.  They agreed if they would allowed their primal desires win over their better judgement, they should use a non-phone number texting service.  While in Denerim, Astrid discovered TIM.  It only required an e-mail, which she made one up just for it.  All information was saved in the application.  Need to remove evidence?  Just reset your phone or delete the app.  Astrid partly encouraged the Pox’s to tamper Alistair’s phone to remove their hidden communications.  She feared the frequent use lately risked discovery.

“That was my intention.”  Astrid breathed, her hands wandering down his sides to his jean waist.  Her nimble physician fingers worked the brass button and zipper free.  “Cullen walked into Fergus’ house before I could say more.”  She knew it was a lie.  She saw his declaration that she was his only love, and she avoided it.  Astrid avoided it for years now.  Her first life wish she had to shelve and deny for the Pox’s.  Alistair and art will always be the dreams she wanted, but can never have.  _Ever_.

Alistair nudged her legs to tighten around his firm waist so he could let go of her ass.  “I like this shirt.”  He proclaimed, following the button seam to the collar.  His rough touch alone along her jaw and neck almost made her orgasm.  With a quick grasp at the button seams, he tore it open.  Small plastic buttons exploded outwards and skipped across the hardwood floor.  A wave of cool air brushed Astrid’s swelling nipples.  “But I like your breasts more…”  Alistair added before enveloping a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.  His teeth gritted into her sensitive skin.  Astrid immediately cried in pain and pleasure, her pelvis thrusting into his abdomen frantically.

The sheriff continued his assault on her breasts, one rough hand snaking up her ass, side, until it grabbed and clawed her other swollen mound, reddening her pale Fereldan skin.  They both loved marking one another, even if it created scars.  When alone, they would reflect on those everlasting moments to tide them between secret meetings.  Astrid shoved Alistair’s face between his breasts, howling in bliss feeling his rough goatee and five o’clock shadow against her silky skin.  Both hands dug into his neck and back of his head.  His mouth left her nipple and kissed and licked her sternum.

“I could die here and not care.   I could see myself in the heavens telling the Maker I died suffocating between the two most enthralling breasts ever.”  Alistair mumbled against her skin.  His quick breaths rose goosebumps across her chest.

 Just hearing the word ‘die’ on her lover’s lips immediately sadden Astrid.  Both hands relaxed.  Her right ran down Alistair’s chest and touching the textured scar tissue left by that bullet years ago.  The waxing crescent moon tattoo over the old wound barely masked the deep scar tissue.  Her thumb brushed the numb area, while she kissed the top of his head.  Instinctively, Alistair massaged the father sun tattoo on her left shoulder blade, their only signs of promise.  “Fuck me please…”  Astrid whispered into his strawberry blond hair.  She needed to forget that memory.  She needed to feel him inside her, filling her repeatedly to push her longing and sorrow away.

Immediately, Alistair pulled her away from the door, his callused hands placed on her behind and thighs.  Her legs tightened around his waist.  Astrid shedded the ripped dress shirt from her body with flailing arms.  Alistair’s rain-soaked jeans slid down his legs with his movements.  Everyone considered him a flaky, tripping over his own feet and tongue.  Yet, as he carried his lover up the narrow stairs to his loft, he skillfully kicked off his pants and married his lips to Astrid’s.  When it came to her, he never blundered or failed.  She was his everything.

The loft was open on one wall, only a pine railing protected inhabitants from falling.  It overlooked the sitting room, while the A-frame ceiling made the loft bedroom somewhat cramped.  The lovers both appreciated the space.  It forced them to be close and never wander too far away from each other.  If they could not love one another publically, dammit they will demonstrate their feeling in that small cramp space repeatedly and as often as life allowed.

Astrid’s back thumped down on the cotton grey comforter.  She barely had enough time to release her legs before Alistair grasped her bikini-style underwear and tore them off her body.  Astrid leaned up on her elbows and watched him shove down his boxers, his member jumping free and waiting to fill her.  She lunged forward; her lips and mouth engulfing his length instantly.  Alistair cried out in mirth, feeling her teeth grind down the sensitive girth until his purple tip hit her mouth back.  She swooned, controlling her gag reflex as she suckled the member.

Alistair was thick and long, even a little bigger than what her mouth and body can handle.  However, she loved the stinging pain during sex.  She enjoyed how sore she will be in the morning, her voice hoarse and her pelvis aching even in the loosest clothing.  Sex together mimicked their hearts, enjoying and embracing their moments together, but the anguish and grief when they must separate and leave their relationship at the door.  No one could know.  They will never be together.

With her massaging tongue and hard sucking, Astrid felt precum sliding down her throat his length preparing to release.  Before stopping her assault, her other hand flicked and cupped his balls, her nails scratching the sacks.  Alistair howled in pain as she licked the painful areas and leaned back on the bed.  The sheriff eyed her with an unamused but sexually charged look.  He ripped her legs apart and immediately burying himself in her cunt.  He allowed for no time for her walls to adjust, forcing a scream of happy pain from Astrid’s lips.  It had been awhile since their last rendezvous.  Such stolen moments were less frequent since Evie moved back home.  Between Alistair and Astrid’s odd and hectic schedules and the other three Pox’s members always around, the lovers’ sexual nights were few and far between.

Alistair stayed buried inside Astrid, not moving as her body adjusted around him.  They both stared into each other’s eyes.  Alistair’s warm hazel blue gaze never left her moon grey eyes while his hand brushed her matted black hair behind her ear.  She leaned forward just enough that her swollen lips brushed his.  After that one touch, her tongue tickled his pursed lips, searching for his permission to enter his mouth.  Alistair’s lips crashed into hers, teeth clicking as he abruptly pulled his member out and slammed into her body again.  His mouth swallowed her sudden mewl cry.  He found a thrusting pace quickly, his inward assault harder than the last.  Astrid cooed and grunted with each slap, her body accepting the bruising punishment thankfully and enthusiastically.  Each mewl pushed Alistair to pump harder and deeper.  He dug his fingernails into her defined hips, clawing and bruising the skin with each eager drive.

The sheriff’s sack slapped against the woman’s ass and his chiseled abs and groin massaged her clit.  Alistair watched her closely as sweat dripped down his temples and back at the woman groaning and pushing back against his pelvis.  That inner burning fire built inside her.  Astrid chased it, gripping the comforter and Alistair’s tensed arms as he growled and thickened inside her body.  Her lover quickened his pace more until Astrid screamed in ecstasy, her nails jumping to his neck and dug into his shoulders.  Her back arched, her cunt grasped Alistair’s length.  Her lungs poured out all air to continue her overwhelming scream.  Thank the Maker for isolated forest homes or all of Haven would hear her climax right then.

The howling sent Alistair over the edge, he joining her explosive bliss.  His teeth sunk into the doctor’s shoulder, away from any shirt collar, but will definitely leave an indent and bruise in the morning.  Astrid locked her legs and ankles around her lover’s waist, so he could bury farther inside until he was finished.

Feeling his member relax inside her, Astrid unlocked her feet, allowing Alistair to flop down onto her sweaty nude body.  Both people panted and grasped for air, riding out their intense orgasms.  Alistair turned his head to breath into her left ear; the air pushed her black strains away from the red throbbing earlobes.  “I love you…”

Astrid simply closed her glossy eyes, slowing her breath.  Her heart burst in pain and ache at those majestic words.  She yearned to reply.  She cannot reply.  She vowed to never say it again.  She will never say those words again.

 

* * *

 

_Four Years Ago, Redcliffe City, Arling of Redcliffe_

Astrid rolled her carryon to the metal front door, stopping the luggage by the door frame.  She released the handle and let the bag sit back on its end.  Her hand shifted in such a way to release her large purse handle to fall from her shoulder.  Quickly, she shifted through the bag for her airplane ticket, wallet, and cellphone.  It was imperative she make sure she carried all her belongings.  What she was about to do will most likely end their relationship and make her his enemy for many years.  She did not want to break his heart, but everything carried on for far too long and risked too much.

It was the right thing to do. 

It was the right thing to do.

It was the right thing to do.

The mantra rang through the woman’s mind after she got that stupid sun tattoo on her shoulder to signify where the bullet exited his body.  Her brain repeated it since she ordered her plane tickets while he was in the restaurant restroom.  The statement echoed after their numerous rounds of sex before falling asleep.  It drove her to gather her belongings scattered throughout his apartment bedroom that early morning and request a taxi to take her to the airport.

It was the right thing to do, but it was not what her heart and soul wanted.

“Forgot something.”

Astrid froze right as her right hand grasp the metal door knob and the other clutched her carryon to roll out the door.  She squeezed her glassy grey eyes close.  Her forehead leaned into the door as she mentally screamed in frustration and pain.  Like a light switch, her mute fake mask formed on her face so she could face the man.

Alistair leaned on the hallway wall on his right shoulder in only his silly dancing golem boxers.  His right hand reached into his left arm sling and pulled out her string thong.  With a grin, he swung the underwear on his right index finger almost smacking himself in the eye; her handsome goof being his charming self without realizing it.

Blood trickled into Astrid’s mouth from her jaw biting the inside of her cheek.  Her moon grey eyes kept flicking between his bandaged shoulder to his face and back again.  He had only between out of the hospital a week, slowly regaining his ability to use his arm and shoulder after a few weeks of physical therapy.  When she arrived in Redcliffe to attend the Policemen Gala with Alistair, she only expected to stay a few days before attending a medical conference.  It was a harmless invitation with no implications of continuing their secret yoyo relationship that stupidly began during the Blight.  After all, she was on winter break from residency, her first rest since graduating medical school.

Then Alistair was shot protecting the governor.

She kept pressure on his gapping bullet wound waiting for the paramedics.  He died in her arms a few times.  She pumped air into his ceased lungs and screamed for him to keep fighting, to stay with her.  She never left his side in the hospital, while emergency room doctors rushed to save his life.  The bullet rip right through his body, collapsed his left lung, and barely missed his heart.  That bullet indirectly pierced the woman’s heart by harming the love of her unfortunate life.  Hadn’t she already suffered enough losses?

Now, Astrid’s vacation was nearly over.  Life demanded her attention again.  She had to leave him alone, possibly forever depending on how Alistair handled the next few minutes.

“A souvenir?”  The doctor barely whispered, tilting her head to the side.  Her raven black hair shifted off her shoulder.  Its thickness made the ponytail tug the back of her head.

“I don’t want a parting gift.  I want you, Astrid.”  Alistair declared, sling-shoting the garment across the Redcliffe apartment’s small living room at her.

Astrid bit her lip, glancing away.  This was why she wanted to leave before he woke up.  “My taxi is waiting downstairs.  I have to go-“

“-You mean run away.  _Again_.”  He snapped in a booming aggressive voice.  He never rose his voice.

The woman slapped her carryon handle down into its folding compartment and sat her hands on her hips.  “I am going back to school, Alistair.  Not running!”  She rarely rose her voice too, but her emotions could not be controlled now.  Now that he discovered her sneaking away, the junior physician released the pain and anguish digging at her soul for the last few days.

“Right.  You’re returning to the career your parents wanted you to follow just like you denying us for the rest of our friends.  You do everything for others, never yourself.  You’re dying under all this idiotic bullshit!”

Alistair was not wrong.  She became a doctor because her parents did not approve her becoming an artist.  They died thinking she will never amount to anything.  The Blight showed her being a doctor was more practical and made a difference.  She was good at caring for the sick.  Her growing student debt was worth being able to save Alistair that night two weeks ago.

It only made sense to not start a romantic relationship with Alistair if that meant the Pox’s stayed together.  It was a simple sacrifice to not date a best friend for the sake of avoiding another Cullen/Maya meltdown.  Neither person expected to fall into each other’s arms during the Blight, but they had.  The growing stress and denial controlled both National Guard volunteers, especially following the fiasco.  Every time they stated it was the last time, they would find themselves in bed again within a week.  Now, Astrid had the opportunity to stop this forbidden relationship just like she stopped following a stupid dream of being an artist and honor her parents by becoming a physician.  It will hurt and ruin everything she ever wanted for herself, but it was the right thing to do.

“Last time I checked, the only one of us that died was you, Alistair.”  Astrid eloquently noted with a calm, rational voice.  He squeezed his hazel eyes shut, those beautiful Fereldan suns she always watched from across the room.  The statement stung her as much as him, but if it made him realize what he wanted cannot occur, it was worth it.

“Maybe you should have left me dead then, if this was your intention all along.”

Her face remained stolid and blank, while her heart broke into pieces.  Astrid cannot live without him.  If he had died that night, she would most likely killed herself.  Yet, they had to live without each other, if anyone could call that living.  Alistair will still breathe and possibly find someone else to love, and that was enough for her. 

It was the right thing to do.

“I am glad you are alive and well.”  Astrid proclaimed, wetting her lips to avoid tears falling from her shimmering eyes.  “You are my best friend.”

Alistair stomped over grabbed her arm before thrusting her back against the door.  Her head smacked the metal, while her luggage fell over.  “And you are the love of my life!  Yes, you are my best friend, but I will give up a thousand friendships to marry you, love you, have children together, and hold you in my arms until we grow old together and die!”

“You know we won’t grow old, Alistair.”  Astrid whispered, meeting his stormy hazel stare.  “We survived the Blight, but the epidemic left us barren and most likely die before we are fifty.  We both know you would never give up our friendships with Nate, Cullen, and Evie just to be together.  We would tarnish Maya’s memory.  We would resent ourselves for being so selfish until what we feel for each other decayed and turned into something horrible.  What you wish will never happen because this is the right thing to do.”

Alistair bit his lower lip.  His glistening orbs never left her blank noble face.  “I love you, Astrid Elissa Cousland.  I will always love you and continue to do so even if you truly believe we cannot be together.  I will keep telling you I love you every moment until you get it through your thick, noble head we are meant to be.  Marry me.  _Please!_ ”

Astrid took a deep breath, feeling her resolve waning with his declaration.  She must leave _now_.  She pressed him back enough so she could kneel down and claim her bag.  Once completed, she grabbed the front doorknob and turned it.  Gaining enough space between the door and the panting man begging her to stay and marry him, she inched the door open and slipped her body out into the apartment building hall.  With one last glance over her shoulder, Astrid’s tearing eyes met Alistair’s begging eyes.  “No...”  She bit her cheek to keep her resolve.  “I love you, Alistair Mark Theirin.  But, that is the last time I will ever say it.  Forget me.”

Astrid slammed the front door shut and quickly raced down the hall and to the open elevator with her carryon luggage and purse.

He did not follow after her.  He did not call out to for her to stop.  He let her go.

Maker, Astrid’s whole soul prayed for him to chase after her.

It was all the right thing to do, and it destroyed her.


	10. Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "I Got You" by Leona Lewis

A small sliver of morning light shined through the window’s curtain gaps.  Cullen groaned and winced a little, automatically using his hand to cover his stinging sore eyes.  He rolled on his side to avoid the sunrays.  For a few seconds, he believed he could sleep a little longer, finally comfortable enough to dream about something happy.

Wait, there was no window in his bedroom.  That was one reason why the ex-templar hated his studio apartment.  He woke many nights still thinking he was in a windowless prison cell just like all those weeks ten years ago.  Only Surana’s barking would remind the man he was not kidnapped and tortured.

Where was he?

Cullen’s blood-shot eyes inched open to see familiar terracotta orange paint and hanging childhood photos along the walls.  He was in the downstairs spare bedroom in Evie’s townhouse.  How did he get there?

The ex-templar edged his eyes open completely to see his mabari pressed against his side asleep with her tongue hanging out.  He was surprised the pregnant hound had not annoyed him to wake up for her breakfast and their morning run.  From her snoring, it seem like Surana had been up most of the night keeping an eye on her master.  Cullen pulled out an arm from under the comfy cream sheets and scratched his therapy dog’s head and neck, still not waking her.

Moving was cumbersome, especially along his tight neck and shoulders.  He ran his hand through his hair, immediately feeling his curls twist around his fingers.  Cullen never allowed his curls to be so untamed unless he passed out immediately after a shower, but he had not done that for months.  Furthermore, he rarely showered at Evie’s house, feeling too self-conscious about his battered body.  He pushed down the linen sheet and realized he was just wearing his white undershirt and boxer-briefs.  He always slept in a sleep pants and no shirt, sweating too much to wear anything more and was sometimes prone to sleepwalking.  Cullen’s clothes from the night before laid at the end of the bed folded nicely in such a way that demonstrated they were recently been laundried. 

Something was definitely not right.

As soon as Cullen thought back to last night, his confused head pounded and ached.  His mouth tasted vomit and felt like someone shoved cotton down his throat.  His eyes shifted to the end table shifted to see an open bottle of Tylenol and a glass of water.  He grasped the bottle and water, swallowing two fast-acting tablets in hopes it will clear his mind and dull the ache in his joints.  Setting the empty glass and bottle back down, he turned himself into a sitting position on the bed edge-

-and immediately stepped on something soft.

Cullen retracted his bare feet back under the covers and looked down.  Frizzy auburn hair laid against a single pillow, while a human-size lump used a quilt to cocoon herself.  Her face was away from him and towards the open bedroom door.  Her cell phone laid on the pillow along with a thermometer and a damp washcloth. 

The soldier’s amber eyes flashed back at his mabari and sighed.  Surana barely opened her brown eyes as he spoke, “You know, humans usually sleep in beds and mabari sleep on floors.  Not the other way around.”  The hound just closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

Why was he at Evie’s?  Why was she asleep on the floor beside the bed after washing his clothes?  What was all the medical stuff doing there…?

Cullen winced and flopped back down on the bed.  Suddenly, last night became clear in his mind’s eye.  He remembered his panic attack at Mia’s house and his delirious state attempting to drive home after dinner.  He vaguely recalled laying down on Evie’s front step, hoping she may help him during his withdrawal sickness.  Evidently, she did so much more, including washing his clothes and keeping vigil beside him all night.

“Maker’s breath…”  The ex-templar grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Cullen felt so ashamed and stupid.  This was exactly one reason why he did not want anyone knowing about his struggles.  He was a broken man, who did not deserve the assistance and care she provided.  He always made sure to never put himself in such situations.  Yet, here he laid in his underwear while his best friend slept on the floor ready to act if needed.

Wait, how did she washed his clothes?

“Eve…?”  Cullen groaned loud enough to hopefully wake the woman and not give himself a worsening headache than the one already thumping between his ears.

“Hmmm…?”  The Free Marcher hummed from his left.

Suddenly, a frizzy head popped up over the bed edge as Evie jumped upward.  The blanket pooled off her shoulder as she stumbled to her feet.  “Cullen?!” 

“Yeah…”  The man replied, still keeping his eyes closed.  He did not want to see her sympathy or worry.

“Look at me, idiot!”  Evie hollered, flopping down beside his hip.  The bouncing bed forced Cullen’s blood-shot eyes open.  Her bright green eyes were red from her wearing her contacts all night.  She shoved her pointing finger in his face.  “Call me next time!”

“There won’t be a next time…”  Cullen sighed, leaning forward enough to rest on his elbows.

“There will be if you keep being so stubborn!”  Evie smacked his shoulder and bit her lip.  “I told you to call me when you felt that bad, and I would take care of you.  Yet instead, you risked driving here and couldn’t even get yourself in the house!”

“I pulled over here and didn’t risk driving home.”  Cullen corrected her.  “I was on my way back from Mia’s and-“

“Wasn’t Astrid with you?”

“How did you know she was at the dinner?”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “We texted a little while after you fell asleep.  I needed her advice about your fever and was somehow she was still awake at 02:16.  The woman never sleeps, I swear.  Your temperature kept climbing and falling weirdly throughout the night.  Your heart would do cartwheels every time, scaring me shitless.  She and I assumed you came here from your apartment after you got worse.  Why didn’t you have her take you home!?”  Cullen glanced away from her burning irritated eyes.  “I get it.  You didn’t want to ask for help.  You thought you could handle everything alone like some macho libre.  Well, I’m sorry, but you will have the biggest pain your ass for the rest of your life because I—we care about you.  We want to see you overcome your addiction alive and well.  A big ‘fuck you’ to the Chantry, you know?  Just like when we were kids, we’ll be there for one another no matter if you ask or not.”

Cullen pinched his nose.  Ever since he saw Evie in his hospital room nearly two years ago, Cullen knew the Pox’s will not allow him to handle his lyrium withdrawal alone.  However, he could not bring himself to ask for help.  Just allowing Evie to see him in such a state then and now was enough for him to run away and bury his dizzy head in the sand on some deserted island.

Speaking of states, “Did you undress me and do my laundry?”

Evie froze, turning bright red.  And they called him the lobster.  “I—Yes.  Your greedy friends stole all your clothes a-and you were soaked to the bone.  I undressed you enough to w-wash what you were wearing.  You can ask Surana.  Nothing bad happened.  She kept an eye on me the whole time.”

A sobering thought crossed Cullen’s mind, causing him to touch his chest gently.  “Did you leave this shirt on or-“

Evie bit her lower chapped lip, nearly drawing blood.  Her bright green eyes darting around a few times, trying to study anything but him.  Finally, she took a deep breath and met his anxious amber stare.  “No.  I was going to lie because I figured you didn’t remember anything, but you need to hear something, Cullen.”

Cullen pulled at his stubble chin and cheeks several times.  Panic and nausea rose up his stomach and throat.  She saw the torture scars.  Maker’s fucking breath.

“You are the strongest person I have ever met.”

Wait, what?  Cullen blinked a few times.  “Huh?”

Evie tilted her head.  “You don’t have to tell me anything, and I will tell no one what I saw.  You just need to know that you are not broken or feeble.  You should not hide what happened to you, but I understand why you do.  I know I would.  However, those scars show you survived whatever happened and came out stronger than any other person in Thedas.  Wear those badges with honor and pride.  They will fade just like the memories once you heal both physically and psychologically.  I will be beside you through the whole endeavor.”

Cullen just stared into Evie’s bright green eyes shocked and in awe.  Her sun-kissed face had the gentlest smile that brought out her little faded freckles across her strong cheekbones and made her eyes shimmer.  The Pox’s called it her genuine smile, a reflection of her mind, body, and soul.  She believed every word she proclaimed.  Yet, Cullen could not accept the praise.  She did not know what caused those scars.  She did not know what he did as a templar that led to those scars and so much mental anguish.  If she did, Evie would kick him out and never speak to him again.  Cullen could not tell her that.  Never.  No one will learn his crimes completed in the Chantry’s name.

The ex-templar just nodded and looked away.

“Breakfast?”  Evie cooed, poking his stomach.

Cullen rolled his eyes.  “You have no food, Eve.  Besides, what time is it?”

Evie reached down to the floor for her cell phone.  She entered her password.  “Uh…7:53.”

“ _What!?_ ”  Cullen hollered, flipping off the sheet and grabbed his clothes.  His whole body jerked with pain to the point Evie caught him before rolling off the bed.  “The investigation-“

“-Oh no!”  Evie shoved him down on the bed again, sitting down on him to stop his protests.  Her firm bony behind dug into his abdomen alerting the man how close the two friends were that moment.  A few strains of her frizzy auburn hair curtained their faces.  Her nose brushed his with every breath.  “You are in no condition to work.  You’ve barely rested and slept.  You tossed and turned with nightmares all night.  No way am I letting you out of this house!”

“But-“

Evie held up her hand, still using her tiny limber body to keep him pressed against the bed.  Cullen’s cheeks flushed with how much he felt Evie through his undershirt.  Her thin Ostwick State t-shirt left nothing to the imagination.  Her cotton boy shorts were bunched up around her hips, showing off her firm thighs.  He was afraid to lay his hands on any part of her curvy body, so he curled his fingers around the soft sheets.  It was Cullen’s turn to be a cooked lobster.

Evie never noticed their intimate position, more concerned about his low constitution.  “No buts, Mister!  You and I are calling in sick.  Cassandra and Alistair will be at Dorian’s all morning, and Zevran left town already.  The Chargers can handle any surface investigation until we are available tomorrow.  I’ll call everyone and state _I’m_ the sick one.  Of course, Cassandra will want the truth and what happened last night so she will cover you.  Sound good?”

Cullen ran his hand through his hair.  “We can’t.  That hiker deserves someone analyzing her death.  She’s waited years already.  I won’t let this addiction rule-”

Evie pressed her nose into his to the point their lips were just mere millimeters away.  Her breasts dung into his chest and sent a very dangerous signal to his groin.  Maker, if she shifted down for any reason she would immediately feel his morning wood. 

The geologist’s fiery exploded in her eyes.  Cullen knew that dagger glare too well.  That same cut eyebrow from the first time the Pox’s caused the scar only added to the menacing glare.  When Evie’s temper tips, do not deny her demands.  “Shut.  It.  There is little we can do at the moment.  Until we ship off all the evidence to the labs and discover her identity, we are at a standstill.  It will continue to rain today, so it will be very hazardous to be down that hole alone.  The weather will only make your withdrawal worse.  Astrid and I were only steps away from hospitalizing you last night.  If you press yourself any further, you _will_ be hospitalized, and everyone will know what is going on.  Do you want that?”

Typical Evie.  The woman could deduct and conclude the best outcome from a pile of poop.  From how she spoke, she thought about this all night while keeping watch.  She understood Cullen worked himself too much so she provided excellent reasons to avoid the investigation today.  Cullen still felt like he was failing everyone.  If he was as bad as she stated last night, he was luckily he did not wake up in the hospital hooked up to machines fighting for his life again.

“No.  Maker’s breath…”  That got her to lean back away from his flushed face.  Cullen rubbed his sore eyes again.  “Fine.  You win.”

Evie grinned ear-to-ear, finally getting off him.  Her suddenly missing warmth made his body ache and groan.  “Good, because I’m more stubborn, and that’s saying something.  I already had my tow straps waiting by the front door to tie you down if need be.”  Evie smirked, half-joking.  Knowing her, she would have enjoyed buckling him down like some dominatrix.  “Let me make some calls and pick up breakfast.  There is a reason why I love this house.  Well, besides bugging my bitchy neighbor.  The local coffee shop, The Blue Nug, is just around the corner.  I’m craving an Anderfels Cheese Danish, and you look like you can eat a dozen bagels.”

Bagels did sound good.  “Everything bagel with homemade strawberry cream cheese.”

Evie grinned.  “Oh, I know.  Your carb addiction is still very strong.  Get a shower and clean up.  I’ll be back soon.”  She glanced at the white and grey mabari at his side.  “You keep him from doing any work, okay?”  Surana opened one eye and groaned.  “Don’t give me that.  I know you’re pregnant, but it doesn’t mean you can be a bitch.”

“Technically, she is a bitch.”  Cullen reminded her, chuckling.

Evie rolled her eyes.  “Ugh.  I would smack you, but I’m just happy you’re awake and smiling.  Take it easy until I’m back.”

Cullen zoned awhile in bed, listening to Evie’s Free Marcher lilt talking on her phone in the living room.  Just like she proclaimed, she told the Iron Bull that she was coming down with a cold and needed to cancel the exploration for the day.  It allowed her some time to e-mail some colleagues for their specialized camera to photograph the rocks and gather some tectonic data.  Her second call was to Astrid, giving her an update on Cullen’s health and that they were skipping work.  From the Astrid’s loud tone through the speaker, she seemed like she was rushing to work but relieved Cullen was okay.  Evie laughed when Astrid mentioned Cullen’s stolen clothes were clean and will be dropped off at the townhouse later today.

Cullen listened as the geologist raced upstairs to change only seeing her feet stomp up the stairs to her bedroom, a place not even the Pox’s had ever seen for more than a few seconds.  Once out of her revealing pjs, Evie popped her head into his room before leaving, dressed in black cotton yoga pants, a white bangy tank top, and flip flops.  She piled her wavy frizzy hair on top of her head in a messy bun.  Both people agreed Cullen should speak to Cassandra since the two women had a love/hate relationship since they met.  Cullen knew it was because both women were very similar, but he would never admit that even under distress.

The ex-templar did not move again until he heard the Jeep drive away.  Despite Evie knowing his body’s battered condition now, he still wanted to avoid showing off his scars any more.  He gathered his clothes, grabbed his cellphone, and slowly walked upstairs.  Before entering the bathroom, he called Cassandra. 

Much like Astrid, she sounded rushed and flustered, especially after Cullen told her what happened.  The man just set down his cellphone in the hallway while she ranted about him being an idiot and risking his health.  Once her ten minute rant was complete, she relented to cover him for today and any more days he needed.  Cullen assured her he would fine tomorrow, only staying away because Evie threatened his life.  She agreed to call and give him a summary of what the coroner said that morning, but will avoid contact so he can rest.

Cullen did not know how long he allowed the hot water to pour over his sore body.  The coffee shop was just around the corner, but it seemed like Evie stayed away so he could have some space to pamper himself and relax.  Despite her pep talk earlier, they both knew him well enough to let him digest the last twelve hours.  Sometimes, he wondered if Evie can read his mind.  If that was true, she would have killed him years ago.

The last twenty-four hours replayed in the soldier’s mind as he scrubbed himself with homemade lavender soap Evie left for guests.  Cullen knew he had been an idiot with his health and recovery, but he was sick of the aches and pains still plaguing him after nearly two years.  His PTSD had not improved despite pouring so much money into therapy and other treatments.  The career he established since leaving the Order was now hampered by the withdrawal, leaving his friends to carry his weight when he should be well enough to do his part.  A woman died down that hole and deserved someone giving their whole heart and soul to discover who she was and what happened.  He should be happy for his sister and family for the new babies arriving next year, but instead had a panic attack and puked outside.  Evie and Astrid should not have to debate on hospitalizing him every time his fever kicked in or the pain threatened his life.  Everything frustrated him.  Cullen felt like he was not truly living.  Maybe this was his penitence for everything he has done.  If he had just listened to Maya all those years ago…

Cullen slammed his fist against the blue shower tile, gritting his teeth.  It was all in the past.  He must live with his life choices and do everything possible to find some normalcy after so much chaos.  The first step was clean himself up enough and eat something before he did fall over.  The ex-templar knew if he pressed Evie on work or overdoing himself, such his morning run or driving, she will hospitalize him.  If he wished to leave today, he had to follow her rules.

With that in mind, Cullen continued to shower and wash the night sweat from his stiff body.  He knew Evie’s townhouse had two hot water tanks, so he could stay under the large showerhead thrice as long as his studio apartment.  Furthermore, the steam fogged the full-body glass shower stall.  Cullen felt comfortable in the open bath instead of most tubs with curtains.  His claustrophobia waned the longer he stood in the open space that massaged his tense muscles.  Once again, Cullen figured that was another design feature of Evie’s house the geologist considered for the guest bathroom, possibly for him specifically.  Maybe when his lease was up, he could find a better place somewhere close by instead of a windowless basement studio.  In comparison, the townhouse was an expensive spa retreat versus the dark moldy dungeon he rented.

By the time Cullen turned off the cooling water, he heard a banging door, a nagging Orlesian accent, a barking mabari, and Evie’s wicked laugh downstairs.  At least his templar hearing was still functioning well.  He quickly dried off his battered body, ignoring his reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror.  The man could reflect that his best friend saw what happened ten years ago when he was alone and in his own space.  After shifting around the bathroom cabinets, he discovered some of Alistair’s gel pomade to control his twisting curls.  Maybe he should store some products here after all.  Now that Evie knew his secret, it seem silly to rush home to shower when he stayed over, especially with such a fabulous comforting bathroom.  No wonder Astrid fought for the second floor bedroom all the time.

Startled, Cullen slowly recognized the scent wafting off his clean clothes as Evie’s homemade laundry detergent.  The woman had sensitive skin and was allergic to most brands, so she expanded her suds hobby to other soap products.  Even her dishwasher and sink soap was homemade.  She always chose the same scent:  citrus and cloves.  She shifted which citrus fruit oils and juices she used on different products, but her clothes and essential oils were always orange and cloves.  After slipping on his cargo pants and white shirt again, he paused and sat down on the closed toilet.

The former soldier’s hand kept brushing his three day stubble, pulling at his jaw and chin while reflecting.  Shame filled his mind and body smelling Evie’s iconic aroma on his clothes, his groin responding instantly again to how she sat on him and pressed all her weight on him to keep him in bed.  It was not the first time the friends tackled each other, but somehow it rose emotions up inside him. 

Any idiot would see how beautiful Evie was and, unfortunately, Evie only dated idiots.  _Two_ such morons still deserved Cullen’s steel boot up their asses.  Even the girlfriends she attracted were toxic.  No matter the gender, Evelyn Trevelyan found the rotten fish in the dating pool.  Cullen always remembered the screaming text messages and calls he got in Kirkwall from his best friend venting about a bad date or someone being evil.  She admitted at least she never fell in love with the jerks.  None of those relationships got that far.

Cullen shook his head, running his hand through his tamed curls.  He massaged his tight neck a few times.  He was just overthinking everything.  He woke up in a strange place and was simply responding to Evie’s hospitality.  Yes, she smells divine like all the spices and citrus iced teas his mother made on hot summer days.  Such happy, simpler times.  He was just remembering happy thoughts, ones that he personally needed after a trying night.  Furthermore, what guy wouldn’t get a chub when someone like her was sitting him and ordering him to rest?  Evie was his best friend.  She will always be there for him even when he is a complete ass. 

One of Cullen’s great regrets since Maya was his quick flings.  He told the truth that night in Astrid’s bathroom eleven years ago.  The man planned to never seriously date again.  He dove into his career, only having a few one night stands while in Kirkwall over the years.  The only woman he saw more than once there was Bethany Hawke, and Cullen treated her like shit. 

Bethany was patient and kind, always listening to him complain about the Order or how things were in Kirkwall.  She helped him on many occasions when he needed someone close either to sleep beside him or a quick screw.  The ex-templar did not register how much she hoped for a deeper relationship.  He never told her about Maya and his glorious immaturity to not end the relationship before it nearly destroyed the Pox’s.  Cullen avoided the subject even when she asked about his first sexual partner for health purposes.  She was after all a nurse.  (Apparently the knight had a thing for nurses, Cullen realized then.  Even the Kirkwall nurse who took care of him after his overdose was amazing.)  All he could see in his mind’s eye was Maya’s funeral pyre burning brightly as her ashes were carried to the Maker’s side.  If anything came out of stopping lyrium in the short-term, it was getting out of Kirkwall.  With him gone, maybe Bethany could find someone who was kind and generous to her instead of bitter and anxious.

Cullen’s past actions towards Bethany was why he had to think about his physical reaction with Evie earlier.  Knowing it was just natural and he was not starting his random fling motives allowed the sickening weird feeling that rolled around his stomach to dissipate.  Besides, Evie and he could never be in a relationship anyway.  The Pox’s declared never to date one another ever, even for a quick toss in the sheets.  That within itself would make things extremely awkward. 

Cullen finished his self-loathing and finally exited the second floor bathroom, immediately smelling fresh coffee, bagels, and other goodies downstairs.  He trekked down the short flight of stairs and looked over to the small dinner room to see Evie munching on her cheese danish and sipping her cappuccino.  Her bright green eyes stared at the oak table—one of Alistair’s creations—deep in thought.  She was always terrible observing her surroundings, oblivious to everything happening around her.  Cullen could name numerous times she was almost hit by cars as a kid.

The ex-templar slowly approached the table covered with all sorts of coffee house food.  By the kitchen bar, Surana woofed down some wet food Evie must have picked up while out.  The pregnant dog glanced at her master once before returning to her meal.  Cullen’s amber eyes flicked back to his friend, who still had not reacted to his presence.  She wrinkled her nose or bit her lower lip as her thoughts played out in her mind.  A soft red strip of red tickled her cheekbones and nose.

“I think I see smoke and fire bursting out your ears.”  Cullen remarked, chuckling.  He quickened his step to the opposite chair across from her.  Instantly, Evie broke her long gaze and blinked a few times at him.  Her mouth gaped open, showing she was mid-bit when he spoke.  “Do I need to call the fire department?  I’m pretty sure Grim is still at the station at this time.”  Evie shook her head no quickly, resuming her chewing.  Her uniquely colored contacts shifted towards the living room.  The blushing became more intense the more she kept her gaze away.  “Something on your mind?”

His best friend sighed and bit her lip again while swallowing her food.  “What isn’t on my mind?”

Cullen perked an eye brow, pulling an everything bagel from a paper box filled with bagels, donuts, and eclairs.  A tall dark roast coffee sat in front of him with no cream or sugar.  She knows he loves his coffee bitter and virgin.  “Well, what is making you scrunch your nose like a pig?”

Evie winced and leaned back in her seat.  She kept pressing her lips together as her eyes danced around the table, rooms, and to finally him.  With one big last sigh, she spoke, “Move in with me.”

Thank goodness the blond Fereldan had not taken a drink of coffee yet or Evie would be wearing it.  “What…?!”

Evie adjusted herself in her seat, preparing for a debate.  “Hear me out:  it’s obvious that you being alone after ending lyrium is dangerous.  Imagine if last night happened when you were by yourself.  Surana could bark all she wants, but none of your neighbors know what is happening to you.  You live the farthest from your family and friends so even if someone called us, it might be too late.  The only reason why Cassandra saved you from your overdose before was because a private came to your room that morning.  You need to be near people who can help you, Cullen.  I’m the most logical.  I’m your power of attorney who knows your ailment and its origins.”

Cullen went to open his mouth, but she snapped her fingers closed to let her finish.  He groaned and pinched his nose while she continued.  Was does she make things so complicated!?  “You already stay over here more than your own apartment.  Both you and I know that that basement apartment is not helping you at all.  There are no windows, it’s cold, and it smells horrible like your landlord hid bodies down there for decades.  I have more than enough space here for you and Surana.  I’m on business trips most of the time, and it will be very good this winter for someone to stay here during bad weather.  My house is right near town and on your way to work.  If privacy is your problem, I’ll even switch you rooms.  No one will bother you on the third floor!  Surana has the front and backyards to run around in, especially if she shits in Iron Bitch’s lawn.  She can lounge and sleep on the patio decks this autumn.  It would be easy to add doggie doors to a few doors.  The other Pox’s visit a lot, so if you have a PTSD episode, they can keep an eye on you.  I just wished I thought of this sooner to avoid last night altogether!  This place can be a somewhere you can heal and recover, Cullen.”

Cullen sat for a few minutes, sipping his coffee while thinking about her offer.  It made logical sense.  He practically lived there anyway.  He did the laundry and dishes.  He stayed over when Evie was out of town to keep an eye on everything.  It was on his way to work.  Surana loved the freedom and will need additional room when her puppies are born.

Then Cullen’s anxieties creeped into his mind.  Living away from his friends and family kept them in the dark about his nightmares and their origins.  Yes, his neighbors complained about his screaming and panic attacks following a nightmare.  He did not want to keep Evie up when he could not sleep nights that he feared to lay down.  She would know he has to change his sheets every day because of the sweat and tears.  Would she even be willing to change things around her home to avoid banging cabinets that sound like roadside bombs?  Can she handle keeping the blinds closed and no thumping music when his migraines rip through his skull?

Cullen ran his hand through his hair and massaged his neck.  “Eve, living with me isn’t easy.  You know how OCD I am.  We would drive each other up the walls.”  He did not need to tell her the true reasons, just ones to get her to forget the whole idea.

“I need structure in my life since moving back.  If it wasn’t for you all coming over, I would never eat.  My dishes and laundry would be pouring out everywhere.  Besides, we already bug one another enough.  We’re stubborn as shit.”

Cullen pulled his chin.  “Surana chews on everything.”  The mabari whined behind Evie, offended.  “It’s true.” He called to his hound.  Surana just woofed in protest.

Evie shrugged.  “I’ve always wanted a mabari.  Might as well learn how to take care of one.”  Surana barked happily, trotting over to Evie and licking her hand.  “Maybe one of your pups will imprint on me, huh?”  The hound just rolled her eyes.  “Just because I’m not Fereldan?!  Shish…”

“I like being alone.”

Evie rolled her eyes again, sighing.  “So do I, but maybe that is part of our problems.  We have lived alone for over ten years.  Everyone tells me I drink too much and that you need someone to keep an eye on you.  I think you’re the only person I can stand seeing every day because I practically do anyway.”

Cullen rubbed his neck.  Dammit, she was always so fucking right.  “I’m not living here for free.”

Evie smirked, seeing he was relenting.  “I don’t plan you to.  You can help with the mortgage, maybe handle groceries?”

“I’m not paying for the alcohol, Eve.  I’m not a millionaire.”

“Dammit!”  Evie snapped her fingers.  She was grinning ear to ear.  “We’ll start an alcohol money jar then.  You know everyone will come here more now that you live here.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

It was Evie’s turn to throw him an inquisitive look.  “Something else bother you?”

Cullen should just tell her, but he pushed it aside.  She would find out soon enough.  “I’m not taking your room.”

Evie giggled, shaking her head and clapping.  “Well, take the second floor bedroom then.  It’s bigger than the downstairs spare.  It has several windows since being on the outside of the duplex, while it’s soundproof.”

Cullen blinked a few times, knowing how her bright green eyes shined that she guessed what he neglected to say.  She knew his true apprehensions, but never said a word.  Astrid stated she heard him muttering in his sleep before, but if that room was sound proof how did she know?  Evie must have told her and the doctor changed the statement to keep his nightmares between them.  How much did Evie already know, but never told anyone?

Cullen gently smiled, suddenly feeling better about the future.  “Okay, roomie.  My lease runs out at the end of Harvestmere.  Gives you some time to reconsider having me around.  You might grow to regret this.”

Evie hopped a few times and beamed.  “Just knowing you are safe and okay is worth whatever bullshit you are going to do!”

“Can I have that in writing?”

“Shut it, Rutherford.”


	11. Bonemeal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload. I was out of town camping the last few days. Enjoy!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Stop" by Spice Girls
> 
> Trigger Warning: detailed description of death, gore, and domestic abuse.
> 
> I don't know much about autopsies and crime besides what I researched and watching crime TV. If I get anything really wrong, please let me know.
> 
> Wynne and Anders' names (Boyd and Adam) are from their voice actors since they do not have given names in the games.

Cassandra hit the call end button on her phone right as she pulled into Haven Community Hospital parking lot.  The hospital was located beside the courthouse building in the heart of the small town.  Her espresso eyes flicked to her smartphone screen right as she put the black SUV into park, seeing Cullen’s face disappear from the phonebook contacts.

“Bloody silly idiot…” the Nevarran mumbled under her breath, reviewing the ten minute conversation in her mind.  She knew the ex-knight overworked himself yesterday.  She knew he lied about his withdrawal symptoms, but she kept her opinions and concerns to herself.  She respected her best friend and his choice to keep his condition to just them.  Still, Cullen placed her in a difficult position with Nate.  The park ranger was Cullen’s childhood friend and would understand lyrium addiction, especially with an alcoholic father and druggie brother, but the ex-templar’s pigheaded pride kept him from admitting his condition to Nate.

The seeker never thought she would be praising that Evelyn Trevelyan though.  With some sense in his dense mind, Cullen stopped driving and stayed at Evie’s house last night.  The geologist cared for her friend diligently and threatened to hospitalize him if he attempted to work today.  Cassandra knew that Fereldan grunt Cullen mumbled when describing Evie’s threats following the seeker’s rants.  Thank the Maker the ex-templar feared his friend’s temper or Cassandra would have driven over there and punched him unconscious.

These Pox’s will be death of her.

Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast never imagined her life like this a year ago, let alone ten years ago.  She served beside Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford in Kirkwall stopping invading Qunari, putting down serial killers who enjoyed dismembered their victims, and ending rioting refugees and city-state residents who rebelled against the government.  She became a seeker because she questioned the world and wished to solve Thedas’ problems.  When her brother was murdered by the Blood Mage Gang in Navarra, Cassandra wanted to hunt down and kill every gang member.  Anger controlled her until her mentor, Byron, directed her towards a lawful way to clean up society.  The Chantry had always been kind to her, especially after her political dictator uncle executed her parents when they attempted to end tyranny.  The Seeker Military Investigation Program gave her a direction and peace.

The seeker never expected the investigative order would lead her to a small religious hamlet in Ferelden.  Once her military best friend stated he wished to leave the Templar Order, Cassandra saw an opportunity to leave her violent past behind and give back to society a different way.  Kirkwall taught her for every criminal she put away, three more were born there.  Everything she did for the Chantry and city-state seem to never resolve the problems.  Furthermore, Cassandra witnessed what the religious institution did to their own soldiers, specifically King-Commander Meredith Stennard.  They drugged them into addiction, barely any different from the drug dealers and gangs she arrested every day.

So, when Evelyn Trevelyan stated she would take Cullen home to Haven, Cassandra saw an opportunity to save her friend and herself.  She was a close personal friend to the Divine, so developing a leadership position for Cullen and her in Haven was not difficult.  The Divine saw their actions as a progressive move for the Chantry.  If Cullen succeeded in his addiction, more templar knights will be able to live longer and keep their minds.  The spiritual leader hated lyrium, but it was a required hazard against impossible enemies.  Cassandra’s detective skills would be useful in both Orlais and Ferelden, acting as Chantry liaison between the two unstable countries.

Cassandra smirked and shook her head, still sitting in her SUV.  She rested her pixie cut black hair against the head rest, thinking about the people she met since arriving in Haven.  She always thought Cullen’s uplifting stories about his childhood friends were like Varric Tethras’ bombastic novels.  There was no way they were real.  Most of their stunts would have gotten them arrested before the age of sixteen.  Yet, when Cassandra met each Pox member, she realized Cullen was not only telling the truth, but left out some of the more crazy tales.

First, Cullen Rutherford was almost the opposite when he was with his close friends.  When she met him six years ago, he was serious, anxious, and bitter.  She had seen his military file while investigating crime within the Order.  She knew what happened in Ferelden during the Blight epidemic.  They never openly spoke about his capture and torture, but she never told anyone about her brother’s murder either.  They just nodded to one another when their eyes grew dull.

Then the seeker saw Cullen transform while interacting with Evie in Kirkwall’s hospital.  He nearly died that morning, but within minutes of seeing her, he was laughing and joking.  His spirit brightened just speaking to his childhood friend.  At first, Cassandra wondered if there was something between them, but that dissipated after she learned about Cullen’s high school girlfriend and the clan’s no dating rule.

Evelyn Trevelyan was a tough woman who told everything as it is without being considerate of someone’s emotions.  Cassandra and she bickered constantly when in each other’s company, but primarily because both women thought and acted the same.  It was like two magnets flipped to the same polarization.  They were very similar to the point they hated what they witnessed.  Both women agreed to tolerate one another for Cullen’s benefit and minimize interaction.

Cassandra met Alistair Theirin next when she and Cullen met the sheriff while developing the search-and-rescue division.  She was not immediately impressed with the bumbling buffoon.  He joked and goofed off constantly.  His friends enjoyed making him look like a fool.  How did such a moron become sheriff?  However, the seeker ate her thoughts after working a few cases with Alistair.  His goofy nature made tense situation bearable.  He was professional and cared about his deputies.  His depressing childhood made him a good leader who appreciated everyone he interacted with.  He was the type of guy that would get in line somewhere and by the time it was his turn he knew the people around him like they had been friends forever.  Everyone laughed and smiled around him.  He was beacon of happy energy and very charming, almost like a fairytale prince.  His silliness made women swoon around him, but he ignored their flirting, either not recognizing what was happening or preferred to be alone.

Astrid Cousland was Cassandra’s cup of tea.  The doctor and she met at a welcome home party Cullen’s sister Mia gave for he and Cassandra.  Astrid spoke with poise and grace, reminding the seeker of an Orlesian politician or noblewoman.  She was easy to talk to and most adult of the Pox gang.  However, Cassandra quickly deducted the doctor’s demeanor was a mask, but one so well formed that only a seeker detective could decipher.  Astrid shined internally and externally, showing her soul in a graceful way, while protecting her emotions.  Cassandra learned later her parents died in a car accident, and she witnessed firsthand the Blight.  No wonder the woman protected herself.  To see that much death as a doctor would make anyone to internalize loss and pain.

Lastly, Nate.

Cassandra gently smiled, while touching her fingertips to her lips.  As promised, Nate made a huge dinner for two last night with expensive wine and delicious dessert.  The night of passion afterwards made her late leaving that morning.  Nate kept wrapping his muscular arms around her nude body, whispering into her ear all the things they could do if they just skipped work and lounged around in bed all day.  Each sexy comment he cooed made her resolve buckle until she finally tore herself away to take a shower.  Her lover followed her into the bath, where they once again made love.  Both people were late running out of the door, thankful that the Pox’s mascot mabari stayed with another member last night.  Although, both adults had a beaming smile and red afterglow that told everyone watching what they had been doing with their time.

The seeker never imagined herself falling in love with someone like Nate.  The first time they met, she threatened to break his arm for the horrible pickup line he attempted.  The man was persistent, taking every opportunity they met somewhere to make a pass.  Cassandra was nearly ready to stab the park ranger in the eye by the time he lip-synced at the diner a few months ago.  It was not the foolish display that made her consider dating him.  It was his warm gaze and continuous kisses on her knuckles throughout the golden oldie.  As promised, he made her dinner, an old Nevarran dish Cassandra had not had since her mother died.  Nate kept apologizing for making her cry that first date, especially after Cassandra told him why.  She quickly told the concerned man that it was happy memories that was only made better by his company.

Cassandra was absolutely addicted to that pushy, sophomoric park ranger.  She thanked him later for his multiple attempts because she would not have discovered his many hidden facets.  Nate suffered a troubling childhood too and did everything possible to differentiate himself from his father’s deplorable actions.  Even his best friends did not know the fears and hurt he carried around alone.  Cassandra loved his macho exterior that protected his weak passionate spirit.  They shared many hobbies, specifically reading, but also introduced their other passions.  The seeker fell hopelessly in love with Nathaniel Howe.

A bell tone pulled Cassandra out of her thoughts.  She glanced down at her cellphone to see the autopsy appointment reminder pop up and blink.  The seeker exhaled, rubbed her eyes, and took the last swig of her espresso shot.  Flipping the empty cup behind her into the cluttered back seat, she opened her driver door and began her day.

Rounding a building corner, Cassandra found herself in the courthouse square that the hospital and main government building shared.  Her concerns about being late subsided once seeing a familiar strawberry blond man staring skyward with two redheaded women.  The man and one of the women wore the same brown uniform, specifically denoting their roles as Haven police officers.  The other red hair wore a skirt business suit with expensive Prada high heels and a Gucci handbag.  One hand laid on her hip, while the other held her herbal tea.

“Mayor, Deputy, and Sheriff, good morning.”  The Nevarran called joining the three city officials by the flagpole.  All three remained staring up the pole.  Cassandra grimaced before looking up as well to see what had their attention.  Her iconic disgusted groan rolled off her lips.

“It seems we have some pranksters…”  Mayor Leliana Rousseau cooed, tilting her head.   “What were you and the Pox’s doing last night, Alistair?”

Cassandra’s eyes brief saw a brush of pain cross the sheriff’s face before he glanced at his boss.  “Not this, I assure you.  Our official contribution is on top of the flagpole.”

Cassandra squinted again to see sometime wrapped around the flagpole’s top ball, colored sun-bleached pink and looked worse for wear.  “What _is_ that?”

“Astrid’s underwear.”  Alistair smirked proudly.  “She forgot them one night we played strip Wicked Grace.  Nate, Cullen, and I found a ladder and tied them up there in high school.”

“Shouldn’t they have decayed by now?”  The deputy asked, wrinkling her nose.  Cassandra knew Aveline Vallen-Hendyr, Alistair’s second in command, from Kirkwall.  She was a hard ass like Cassandra so the women worked well together through the years. It seemed many previous Kirkwall residents escaped that blasted city for the country life.  “That was like ten years ago.”

Alistair chuckled to himself.  “We might have broken into the school and ran them through the laminating machine first.  We learned to weather proof them after the first pair ripped off the high school’s flagpole.  Maker, they feel on the principal’s head too.  Good times.”

Leliana barely grinned, her stolid face always made people think she was cold and calculating, but she was actually a happy, respectable woman.  “Tsk. Tsk, Alistair.  You were such a naughty boy back then.”

The sheriff shrugged.  “Not really.  I was just more likely to have my arm in a cast for six weeks after one of Nate and Evie’s schemes.  Our high jinks were focused on our families or people who bullied us.  Now, if these Red Jennies think about outdoing any Pox’s pranks, Haven’s got a huge problem.  Howe and Trevelyan will not stand someone outdoing us…”

“You knew Alistair before becoming mayor, Leliana?” Aveline questioned, wrinkling her nose.

The mayor nodded and slightly smirked.  “I attended my senior year here as part of a foreign exchange program with my Orlesian prep school.  The Pox’s were three years below me, but anyone and everyone crossed them at least once or twice.  Alistair was nothing but one big pimple his freshmen year.”

Alistair flushed, burying his head in his tall cotton jacket collar.  “We got to get that flag down…”

Cassandra’s espresso eyes flicked back to the cloth feature below the laminated women’s underwear.  Someone in the night thought it would be cheeky to paint a peach and eggplant on a large red flag.  Both produce were positioned in a suggestive way.  The seeker had overheard about a string of pranks and jokes occurring throughout the hamlet.  Most ploys occurred on the wealthy residents, specifically those who did not aid the less fortunate around town or threatened the elven alienage. 

One joke included cutting the butt out of a Chantry sister’s robes who was known to not wear undergarments.  The cloister sister never noticed the hole while dressing and showed her behind to the Chantry congregation that Sunday.  It came out then that the sister had been sleeping with another women’s husband.  The Chantry sister had his family crest with a heart around it tattooed on her bottom.  That was a nightmare to resolve.  Cassandra was subpoenaed last week to speak at the divorce hearing because she had to arrest the Fereldan wife from murdering her Orlesian husband.

“I’ll get the keys to draw down the flag before Josephine shows up.”  Aveline exhaled, rubbing her eyes.  “The woman will have a heart attack if she see this, especially with that Orlesian diplomat arriving today for his yearly pilgrimage.”

With the deputy walking back into the courthouse, Leliana stepped closer to Alistair and Cassandra.  “Any news about the found hiker?”

Cassandra nudged her chin towards the hospital.  “Alistair and I are about to meet with Dr. Pavus for his initial observations.  With the looming bad weather, Evie will not be able to crawl down into the cave again.  Right now, all we can do is get Dorian’s information and identify the remains.”  Her attention focused on the grey clouds and distance rubbles on the horizon.

Leliana nodded, sipping her tea.  “Keep me informed.  If either department needs resources, please don’t hesitate to ask.  It’s quite peculiar a body was found now and after so long.”

“Evie’s theory is that some past tectonic activity could have shifted the entrance and opened it after years covered, like from a landslide or something.”  Alistair explained, while placing his hands in his jacket pockets.  “We’ll get it figured out.”

Leliana nodded.  She gave Alistair a kiss on the cheek and patted Cassandra’s shoulder.  “We will be in touch.”  The mayor gracefully walked towards the courthouse.

Cassandra waved to the hospital.  “Shall we?”

Alistair grimaced, scanning the hospital parking lot.  His eyes caught something that the seeker could not discern that made him frown more.  “Yup.  Let’s get going.”

Both officials slowly walked towards the grey building across from the courtyard silently.  Cassandra caught some movement hastily moving towards the hospital back door where employees entered.  Long raven black hair waved behind the person dressed in blue-grey scrubs.  The seeker’s eyes flicked to the sheriff to see him watching the woman disappear into the building.  His grimace only deepening with each step.

“Everything okay between you and Astrid?”  Casandra questioned, perking an eyebrow.

The sheriff’s head flew to the woman beside him.  “Y-yeah.  W-why?”

“You’re glaring.”

Alistair blushed a little, brushing his spiked hair into his iconic style.  “Oh.  The General ruined my mom’s herb garden last night.  He wanders over to my cabin and enjoys digging up her embriums.”

Cassandra watched the man closely, seeing a long stare and his hoarse tone demonstrating he was lying, but she kept the observation to herself.  It was not her place to interfere with the Pox’s.  Their internal drama would make Antivan telenovas look tame.  The first time she interacted with the five childhood friends, she felt extremely left out.  They spoke their own language that no one could follow.  However, over the last year, Cassandra gained a place in the group, especially after Nate and she started dating.  The group helped move him into her house five months ago.  Since then, at least one of them was there helping out, eating leftovers, or goofing off.  From her discussion with other Haven residents, the seeker was the first person openly accepted by the five close friends since they were kids.  Some people even commented Cassandra filled the void Maya Amell left after her death.

The seeker’s mind wandered to the mysterious friend the Pox’s always spoke about with long stares and somber expressions.  She had seen photos of the blonde meek girl around the house and Cullen’s apartment.  Cassandra remarked once Maya had strikingly beautiful blue eyes, perfect fair skin, and a pleasing heart-shaped face.  Each member discussed her with positive whispers like her spirit still lingered.  It was the first time since leaving Navarra that Cassandra felt the dead was cared for more than the living.  She learned long ago to not ask Nate about the young woman.  He always froze, stop speaking, and hung his head like he was ashamed or something.  It only made her more curious about this important friend that died over a decade ago.  Her death still rattled the group after so long.

Alistair opened the hospital main double doors for Cassandra.  The seeker nodded a thanks and entered.  The morgue was in the hospital basement and only accessible via freight elevator in the back.  Both officials navigated the small community hospital that morning, not needing to show identification or explain themselves to staff.  They were there for one reason or another most weeks, such as saving a pilgrim lost in the woods or bringing in a suspect injured during a chase.  The sheriff’s eyes glanced down a side hallway that led to the emergency room.  Two familiar doctors entered the main hallway at the same time the officials past.

“Seeker, Sheriff, good morning.  I hope all is well.”  Dr. Wynne Boyd called to the two officers.  Dr. Anders just waved, keeping behind his boss.

Wynne was the head of medicine and staffing at Haven Memorial.  She typically served in the maternity ward, but assisted the emergency department when things got crazy.  Dr. Adam Anders worked with Astrid in that department, the other on-duty doctor that supervised the nurses and junior doctors.  He was an excellent doctor, if a bit weird and aloof.  He assisted Kirkwall’s emergency personnel following the Qunari invasion as part of the Doctors Without Borders.  Cassandra barely saw him because he preferred aiding people in Darktown.

Wynne threw Alistair a look.  “Alistair, your tie has a mustard stain!  Maker, clean yourself up.”

The sheriff rolled his eyes, but quickly regretted the act when the older woman huffed.  “It needs washed, but I couldn’t find any of my other ties this morning.  I was…”  He exhaled deeply.  “…distracted.”

The older woman pulled a handy wipe from her pocket and proceeded to clean up the officer.  “We cannot have Haven’s sheriff looking so unprofessional.  What will people think?”

“That he’s a silly goon like usual.”  Anders cackled, shaking his head.  He waved and turned towards the front main doors.  “I’m going home.  I’m exhausted.”

Alistair growled.  “That’s Sheriff Goon to you, Anders.”  He stepped away from Wynne.  “Come on, you’re embarrassing me, Granny.”

Wynne stared daggers at the young man.  “I might be old enough to be your mother, Alistair, and have my own son, but definitely not a grandmother…yet.”

Cassandra perked an eyebrow.  “Some good news from Evangeline and Rhys?”  Anyone who knew Wynne also knew about her son and daughter-in-law.  The two sweethearts traveled Thedas constantly.  Cassandra waited for the doctor to pull out her phone and show them the latest tourist photos they sent.

Wynne smiled gently before walking towards her office.  “Nothing yet, but anyone who has been drinking the Cousland Farm water can only hope.”

Cassandra scowled.  “What does that mean?”

Alistair shrugged.  “Mia’s having twins.  Apparently girls, so Cullen is going to get extra protective soon.  With how quickly she is having kids, everyone around here thinks there is something in the water.”

“Astrid should watch out then.”  Cassandra laughed once, resuming their walk to the freight elevator.  “She always there playing with her niece and nephew.”

“That’s not a problem.”  Alistair mumbled under his breath.

“Why’s that?”

The seeker knew she heard something she was not supposed to because Alistair looked like deer in headlights.  “U-uh, because she is always working.  She doesn’t date, you know?  C-can’t get pregnant without sex a-and you know she isn’t active because she always works, so…Forget I said anything, _please_?”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, pushing the elevator button and stepping in when the doors opened.  “Whatever.”

Alistair gave her a look.  “Have _you_ wanted to be a mom?  A wife with three Nevarran-Fereldan rug rats driving you insane?  Maybe Nate should pick up a canteen of that water…?”

The seeker flushed and pursed her lips.  “Me?!  Uh…Never thought about it…”  The man immediately started to giggle large chuckles rumbled from his chest.  “If you know what’s good for you, Sheriff, you will stop immediately.”

Alistair hiccupped and stopped laughing.

Bloody Pox’s.

Cassandra’s cheek twitched a few times, rethinking her last thought.  It made her sound like she had a disease.  One glance at the blushing Alistair swaying on the balls of his feet, and Cassandra realized how well the gang’s name fit the crazy group.  They were a plague that was annoyingly pleasant.  Never a dull moment with a Pox around.

Suddenly, Cassandra shook her head, covering her ears as a thumping nose rang through the descending elevator.  The lower they went, the more the horrid sound rattled the doors.  “What is _that?!_ ”

Alistair grimaced, rubbing his forehead.  “As long as you don’t repeat this, I would say that’s Spice Girl’s ‘Stop.’”

The seeker threw the buffoon a look, trying to first figure out how he could discern anything from the noise and why he was so familiar with a decade’s old all-girl group.  Sure enough, the sheriff was correct for when the doors finally opened on the bottom floor, the Fereldan pop girl’s familiar vocals rang down the corridor.  Alistair walked out first, repeatedly rubbing his forehead.  The detective could partly hear the sheriff sing along to the tune.  Oh, Nate and Cullen will love to hear about this later.  Alistair deserves their hackling after his mother comment.

Cassandra pursed her lips.  _Would_ she every want children?  Be married?  To Nate?  No, won’t think about that right now.  First and foremost, all attention on the case.

The arling’s medical examiner had only started working in Haven that spring.  The Tevinter native escaped the northern empire when homosexuality was outlawed and prosecuted.  It did not help the flirtatious doctor that his husband was a common enemy of the Imperium, a Qunari spy who rejected the Qun.  The Iron Bull had lived in Orlais for years, building a specialized operation group called the Chargers.  When Cullen and Cassandra became head of Chantry’s rescue division, The Bull’s Chargers had been recommended by the Divine personally.  The Iron Bull accepted the position only if the Chantry could get his fiancé safely out of Tevinter and to Haven.  Cullen called a few favors, and Cassandra found him a position in Haven.  The tourist site was in need of a coroner and pathologist, Dr. Dorian Pavus’ specialty.  It did not hurt either that Dorian was Evie’s second cousin too.  Dorian and she had been long friends for years.  The influential Trevelyan Family arranged the doctor’s reason to leave the empire and happily announced when Dorian would not be returning.  Evie expressed then that it was one of the few times she actually appreciated her rich relatives. 

On that specific morning, the medical examiner was bobbing his head back and forth while typing on his expensive executive laptop.  The man was a night owl, preferring to conduct autopsies when no one would disturb him.  When not working, he caught up on his beauty sleep to avoid wrinkles, as he explain once.  Most times, Cassandra caught in him in his corner comfy wingback chair sipping brandy and reading.  It seemed that morning Dorian was able to go home a descent time the night before because he was showered, shaved, and his moustache was perfect sculpted.  Fresh eyeliner accented his eyes.  However, an empty kettle of fresh coffee sat on his fancy coffee machine, meaning he was practically feeding caffeine through an IV.  No wonder he was jamming to Spice Girls like a crazy man.

Before Cassandra hollered for him to shut off the racket, Dorian grabbed a remote and paused the music, grinning brightly at the two officials.  “Well _hello_ , Sheriff.”  His grey eyes shined to the handsome Alistair.  He only acknowledged Cassandra when the seeker huffed and rolled her eyes.  “Seeker.  Right on time.  Jane Doe awaits…”  He thumbed to the skeleton laying on his metal examination table.

“Got the initial autopsy done?”  Alistair asked, walking over to the bones laying out in anatomically-correct positions.  Cassandra pulled out a two pairs of blue latex gloves from a nearby medical box.  She slapped Alistair’s arm with one pair.  The sheriff pouted at her before taking them.

“I was just finishing my notes.”  Dorian proclaimed, twirling around on his swivel stool to stand.  A true fashionista, the coroner wore a pressed dress shirt, ascot, and vest with expensive designer slacks.  Cassandra never saw him in scrubs, but knowing the man he probably had a specially made set he used for messy examinations.  “I sent off samples to the arling’s capital when I arrived this morning.”

“How long will it take to get them back?”  Cassandra asked, flexing her fingers in the latex gloves.

“At least a month.  Such archaic forensic equipment here in the south.  The crime lab is currently quite busy, so it is on first-come status right now.  I do not think this woman has anywhere to be quite yet, hm?”  Dorian presumed, waving to the skeleton before them.

“In the meantime, what can you tell us about her?”  Alistair questioned, finally properly gloved and reviewed the remains.  “It will give us a _hand_ in the investigation.”  Cassandra and Dorian just threw him a look.  The sheriff loved his puns, specifically in such cases.  Seriousness made him uneasy, so he always attempted to soften the mood.

The medical examiner pointed at the pelvis and femur.  “Female human, Ferelden or Free Marches nationality, between 40 and 50 in age.  Probably just after menopause because she has signs of osteoporosis, common following childbearing years.  She has given birth before as denoted by her separated pelvis, but Evie’s notes stated the same.”

“Anything else?  Throw us a bone here.”  Alistair smirked, proud of his second bad pun.  Dorian’s moustache twitched, while Cassandra groaned. 

Dorian sighed, ignoring his desire to actually throw a femur at the officer.  “She definitely had a difficult life before she died.  You see these?”  He pointed to thickened parts of bone along the ribs, collarbone, arms, and legs.

Cassandra had seen similar bundles on bone in Kirkwall.  “Previous breaks and hairline fractures.  Most soldiers look like this after so many battle wounds, myself included.”

The pathologist pointed at the remains, specifically her hands.  “Unlikely in this case.  She was a dainty housewife from the wear and tear on her joints and hands.”

“Domestic abuse.”  Alistair growled, his hands balling into fists.  “All in the usual places too.  Falls, being pushed into things, and gut punches.”

“That means there will be x-rays somewhere.  Such previous injuries will be in her missing person’s file.”  Cassandra concluded, keeping her temper in check.  She always hated domestic abuse cases in Kirkwall, specific when it was committed by a crazed templar soldier losing his mind to lyrium.

“I do not know about that.”  Dorian exhaled, rolling his head on his shoulders.  “Some of these breaks were never set, like the ones in her fingers and toes.  More serious ones range in time.  If I learned anything in Tevinter, women who were assaulted like this were taken to multiple hospitals and clinics to keep the staff in the dark about the true causes.  However, one specific injury occurred before she died.”  The doctor shuffled down the table towards the woman’s bony feet.  “She broke her ankle and attempted to run on it before dying.  See the wear on the breaks?  The pressure on the wounds kept shaving off bone fragments with each step.  Excruciating pain, I’d say.  There is little healing around the double fracture on her tibia and fibula, meaning she did not just fall down that hole and starve at least.”

“A quick death.”  Alistair whispered before saying a quick prayer.  “Any idea on cause of death?”

Dorian pointed at the skull.  One side was blasted to pieces beside the jaw and main skull.  “Blunt force trauma shattering her right temporal lobe.  The broken fragments probably shredded her brain and cut her external carotid artery.”

“That makes sense with a fall.”  Cassandra assumed, studying the open skull.

“I don’t know.  Her cervical vertebrae were intact, so she didn’t snap her neck like you would think happen in a twenty foot fall straight down.  More likely she hit her head on the walls on the way down.  She probably tripped on her broken ankle and fell in.  She smacked her head on the cave side and that was it.”  Dorian hypothesized, twisting his moustache between his thumb and index finger like a silent movie villain.

“What got her running though?”  Alistair quizzed, staring down at the remains.  “Evie did not find a bag or pack with the remains, so she was unlikely on a long hike.  A day hike?  Lost local?  The fiber found on her body was consist with whatever she was wearing, but not many layers, meaning she was out there during warmer months?  We won’t have any more on that until the sample results come back.”

“Maybe an animal?”  Cassandra offered.  “Wild druffalo, bear, mountain lion…They all have been seen around here.  Something must have given chase for her to not see the cave entrance and fall in.  It’s possible the entrance was obscure under foliage, she tripped on the edge and hit the wall tumbling down.  A landslide later covered up the entrance until recently.”

“Possible.”  Dorian agreed.  “The bones were not exposed to sunlight for a long time, thus why they are not bleached.  Animals never got a hold of them because Evie nearly found them all.  That reminds me:  Evie was lucky that she found that ring.  This woman’s left ring finger was missing almost like it was chopped off or something.  However, there was no identifying weapon or animal markings on the knuckle bones.  Whatever did it happened without leaving evidence.”

“Maybe the finger bones are still down there.”  Alistair propose, thumbing towards the elevator, thus the cave.

“Unlikely.”  Dorian replied, crossing his arms over his dress shirt and ascot.  “The only reason why I know it happened is the bone containing the ring is discolored more than the others, thus exposed to the elements before the rest of the bones.  It could only occur like that if it was exposed to the atmosphere before the others.”

Cassandra exhaled, scratching the back of her head.  “Well, at least the ring gives us a little more about her.  Her age and race doesn’t help as much as that inscription.”  She glanced that the medical examiner and sheriff.  “Let’s compile a profile and start figuring it out who she is.”

Alistair agreed, nodding repeatedly.  “And give her a proper funeral.  The Maker has been waiting a long time for her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is this new prankster? Did Alistair say too much? Could you see Cassandra as a mom?
> 
> Comment and let me know your guesses and thoughts!


	12. Hypothesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: “In the Air Tonight” by Phil Collins
> 
> Once again, I will state I am not a forensic expert. My knowledge is based on TV specials and research online. If I get something wrong, let me know, but I tried to be realistic-ish.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Description of Death and Decay

_Six Weeks Later, Mid-Harvestmere 15:41 Online Age_

Cullen hated that damn packing tape dispenser.  The tape roll kept biding in the plastic contraption, and he already cut his hands and fingers on the dispenser’s metal teeth twice.  Furthermore, the teeth did not cut the tape when it was supposed to, causing a repeating cycle of frustration.  The ex-soldier kept asking himself why he was bothering taping and wrapping everything to only move across town to Evie’s townhouse.  He rolled his honey eyes, remembering how his favorite bust of King Calenhad shattered when Nate tripped on a pebble and it rolled out of a box last weekend.

The basement studio apartment laid devoid of furniture, items, and clothes.  Cullen knew he had another two weeks to move any remaining belongings across town, but each day he felt more comfortable about moving in with Evie.  Each weekend and day off, the Pox’s would come by, load up their vehicles with Cullen’s stuff, which was not much, and transport it to Evie’s.  Every time he returned to the apartment, the silence and darkness wore on his sensitive broken soul.  Evie’s townhouse was alive and encouraging with its open layout, large windows, and silly gathered friends.  The ex-templar’s old studio competed with the Void on torturous abysses of dread and negativity.

Just last weekend, Evie drove Cullen to Redcliffe to buy a new bed.  His cheap mattress he bought after Kirkwall smelled like a crypt, according to the geologist.  Cullen knew it was because of his frequent sweaty nights, but he omitted that detail.  As a house warming gift, she bought him a tempurpedic mattress set for his aching joints.  The foamy material breathed and would last the man a long time.  Evie used the excuse that the second floor bed would replace the downstairs spare room’s bed, noticing the night Cullen got sick that it was older than Andraste.  The whole experience was embarrassing and unsettling as Evie kept shoving him on beds to find one that would work best for him.  She would flop down beside him, say some perverted comment about him bringing a lady friend home, and remark how she appreciated his room was soundproof.

Announcing to the Pox’s that he would be moving in with Evie was received positively.  Cassandra and Astrid remarked the man needed a babysitter, even if Evie was like putting a toddler in charge of a newborn.  Alistair just shrugged and said cool, stating Nate could claim the downstairs spare room now when Cassandra put him in the doghouse.  Both Cassandra and Nate flicked his ears in disgust.  Nate seem the most suspicious friend, his grey eyes studying both friends like there was more there than anyone was saying.  Evie relaxed his wary eyes, remarking Cullen’s PTSD flared more often and she was the most capable to respond.  Ever since the rainy day by the cave, the park ranger studied his friends closely like he knew there was a secret lingering, but no evidence to what.  After all, he was not Evie and could make some correct conclusions.

Nate was not the only questioning person about the new strange living conditions.  Cullen informed his family when he asked if he could store some furniture at the farms instead of renting a storage shed.  His mother actually smiled and gave his father a knowing look.  Mia sang about living closer to the family now and invited Evie to activities around the homestead.  Branson just rolled his eyes and mumbled something to himself, inaudible from Cullen’s seat on the couch.  His younger brother demonstrated every conversation his lessening opinion towards the eldest son.  Rosalie proclaimed it was like when Evie would sleep on the Rutherford couch for years when she did not want to go home.  The observation reminded Cullen of those nights when his mother called the Trevelyans that Evie fell asleep on the couch and allow her to stay.  In actuality, Evie asked the Rutherfords to hide there when her extended family visited and made her life a living Void.

Cullen’s vibrating smartphone in his dark jean pocket pulled him out of his reflection.  His hand flung the blasted tape dispenser across the room, muttering a few curses under his breath about such a useless tool.  He slipped his cellphone out of his pocket, seeing Evie’s silly face as his contact photo.  She had stolen it one night in Kirkwall a few years ago.  It was a photo of her crossing her bright green eyes taking a shot of tequila while wearing his templar helmet.  Her text message photo was her flipping him off from the same night when he took her tequila bottle away.

The man chuckled to himself, thinking about one of the few happy moments when he was a soldier.  “Mr. Oliver Klozoff here.”

_“Haha.  Funny.  What are you doing?”_

Cullen looked at the scattered knickknacks covering his once apartment.  “Trying to finish packing so we can start cleaning this place on Saturday.”

_“Forget it.  I need a spotter.”_

The ex-templar knew what Evie meant.  He exhaled and pinched his nose bridge.  Since discovering the skeleton down in that cave, Evie became obsessed with the case.  The day she ordered Cullen to stay home, she researched and analyzed all geological and tectonic activity in the region and around the woman’s discovery site.  She called colleagues throughout the discipline for opinions on test results without exposing too much about the case.  She travelled down the cave at least twice a week to review the rocks or take another sample.  The geologist even told her brother, Rian, to not begin any excavation or mining testing until the woman was at least identified and given a funeral.  Evie did not want anything tampering with the site.

Evie’s activities were not unusual.  The woman always gave these types of situations her undivided attention.  The more she learned about the remains, such as the possible recurring domestic assault, the more she remained focused on gathering as much evidence for the investigators as possible.  Both Cullen and Cassandra told her there was little else they could do at the moment, but Evie refused to back away.

Cullen walked over to the apartment’s front door to gaze outside.  It was warm autumn day.  The sky was blue and clear, so he could not use the weather as an excuse to not spelunk.  “Eve, I-“

_“-I’ll go down alone if you don’t get here.  Everyone is working, except you.”_

Cullen groaned.  She would and probably get herself hurt in the process.  “What are going down for now?”

_“The finger.”_

The Chantry officer should have known.  Since Dorian’s autopsy report, Evie made it a mission to find that missing ring finger.  The scientist had multiple theories about where it could be.  Evie searched a hundred yard radius around the site, animal dens, open caves, and the whole cave internal twice.  No one could convince her it was lost.

“What makes you think it is down there this time?”

_“I have a theory.”_

“You’ve said that several times, but you won’t tell us what it is.”

_“I don’t want to be wrong and mislead the investigation.  Last time, Rutherford.  If I’m wrong here, then I’m done.  I’ve used up all my possible avenues.”_

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  He glanced at his dark tore jeans, ratty t-shirt, and beaten snickers.  At least he was already dressed for the outdoors and did not need to run back to Evie’s to change.  “Give me twenty.”

_"If you are not here by half passed, I’m diving.”_

“Stubborn woman.”

" _Don’t talk about yourself like that, Cullen.”_

“Shut up, Eve.”

 

* * *

 

Cullen stepped out of his old Ford truck about fifteen minutes later, speeding a little on the forest back roads to make it before Evie’s deadline.  The old battered truck was covered in mud and grime from a few potholes and mud puddles caused by recent autumn storms.  The back rusty truck bed was bare since he decided he would swing by his old apartment for the few boxes he did pack once they were done at the cave site.

The ex-templar made short work hiking to the cave site.  If Cullen really wanted to, he could have jogged it like his morning treks around Evie’s neighborhood, but he did not want to tempt his bad knee.  The game trail was pretty worn down from all the foot traffic the last few weeks.  The Chargers cleared some foliage and poison ivy along the route.  Cresting the last small hill, the forest game path opened to a flatter part of the forest.  The surrounding oak, maple, and birch trees began shifting their leaf colors from green to yellow, red, and maroon.  The woods exploded with color, especially as the early afternoon sun burst through the canopy.  That was one thing he missed about Ferelden all those years away.  His home country was cold during most months, but autumn was gorgeous, especially before the mountains called winter too early.

Birds and other wildlife calls echoed off the trees, bushes, and boulders as he made his way to the cave site.  Turn on last corner opened to a grove where Cullen could observe the cave entrance.  His mind wandered back to the woman racing away from her threat.  If the area was like now, there would be no mistake she would have seen the entrance and avoided it.  There was nothing blocking routes around the lip except an old oak tree.  The only walled obstruction within a hundred yards was a sharp incline, but there was plenty of ways to escapes than be trapped there.  Of course, he was a military soldier, so he was used to quick thinking during stressful situations.  For a housewife though, anxiety probably obstructed her ability to save herself.  Either the site shifted over the last several years or something chased her to that spot on purpose.  The ex-templar did not like that prospect.

The surrounding ground around the cave entrance was covered with a portable solar panel, wires, and laminated maps and papers.  A large metal grid with pulleys and rope hung over the cave mouth, used by climbers and investigators instead of the typical transportable gear.  Skyhold University lent the rigging to the investigating team to navigate down the hole the last few weeks.  Cullen attempted to go down once and barely fit above the pinched boulder area.  His shoulders were too wide.  Alistair told him to lay off the weights and being all manly.

A laptop sat a woman’s lap, who wore skin-tight jacket over a tank top, support climbing straps, and rip stop cargo pants.  Her hair was down, waving in the soft breeze.  The soft auburn wavy curls glistened in the sunshine almost disappearing into the landscape.  Cullen concluded Evie was in her element.  She excelled in problem-solving situations.  Add spelunking, the wilderness, and autumn air and she could live there forever.

The ex-soldier grimaced once he was three feet away from her.  He saw the white thin wire run down from her ear to her laptop.  Her fingers slapped the keys as she searched and typed observations.  The typing synced with the thumping drum solo ringing out of her headphones.  Cullen could almost hear the Phil Collins song clearly distracting her.

Cullen kneeled down behind his best friend and flipped the earbud out of her left ear.  He ducked as the woman’s loose hair nearly slapped him in the face.  “Fuck, Rutherford!”

“It’s not wise to sit alone blasting music.  Cassandra and I taught Kirkwall women about habits to avoid capture and rape.  The worst offenses were loud personal music and wearing their hair in ponytails.”  Cullen lectured, eyeing the geologist.  “Furthermore, you’re the worst about noticing your environment.”

“Just because you have surprised me four times in the last two weeks coming through the front door does not mean I don’t know my surroundings.”  Evie huffed in his face.  She pulled a hair tie off her wrist, struggling a few seconds as it twisted with her leather bracelet and glass beads.  Around her neck was a hemp choker with a large matching glass bead.  The silverite chain with her teardrop amber pendant peeked out around her orange jacket collar.  That piece of jewelry was tucked down her multiple layers.  The geologist gathered her auburn waves into a pony tail, then stopped.  Cullen chuckled as his friend thought about his advice.  Instead, she braided the strains into a horsetail braid.

Evie sat down her laptop and earbuds.  She checked that the solar panel was still charging the computer battery, shifting the panel a little with the afternoon sun.  Once satisfied, the geologist started messing with the climbing gear by the metal grid and pulleys.  “I will be fine by myself down there.  Just keep talking to me through the radio though.”  Her chin nudged towards two walkie-talkies also plugged into the solar panel.  “First, I want to go to the pinch and taking some digital photos with my special camera.  I’ll call when I want you to pull me to the lip.  I want to scan about one to two feet below the opening.  I’ll know after a pass over the area if I am right or not.”

“Then will you tell me your hypothesis?”  Cullen questioned, perking an eyebrow.  “Every time I see you working on this, your scowl grows.  Well, more than your resting bitch face.”

“I’ll give you a resting bitch face with a knuckle sandwich, asshole.”

It was true.  Over the last several weeks, Evie’s tan face distorted the more soil and rock results returned from her trusted laboratories.  Because the arling’s main crime lab was swamped, Evie petitioned if some other special accredited testing centers could study her samples.  With her connections and Trevelyan surname, her requests passed easily, especially since some scientists she contacted were world renowned in the forensic, archeological, and geological communities.  In most cases, these researchers would not be interested in a missing hiker case, but Evie’s theory drew their attention.  Well, whatever that theory was anyway.  As the main investigators, Cullen, Alistair, and Cassandra should have pressed her earlier on her hypothesis, but they did not even have an identity.  Dorian declared the cause of death inconclusive, which really got Evie on the war path.

“I will.  I just hope I’m _wrong_.”  The geologist exclaimed, connecting the ropes and carabiners to her harness.

Cullen blinked a few times.  “What?”

Her bright green eyes bore into his amber orbs once putting on her headlamp.  “If the finger is where I think it is…Well, it will be shit.  Like _bad._ ”

The ex-soldier just shook his head, watching her reach for the specialized camera and a walkie talkie.  She grab a headset and attached it to the communicator so it would be hands free.  She typed a few things on her laptop.  An image of the forest popped up on the screen.  “This is a live feed from the camera using Bluetooth technology.  You will get to see what I see down there.  I already have work lights set up around the cave.”  She flipped a switch by the metal harness grid.  Artificial white light shined up the cave.  “I’ll explain everything while I’m down there.”

Cullen just shrugged and went to his position to spot Evie’s descent.  He watched first from the cave entrance then the camera as she lowered down the twenty foot shaft to the first landing.  She made specific attention to not to touch the walls, so all that supported her was the metal grid and pulleys.  Once she reached the pinch, she leaned against one way direction from the drop and a specific area.  “Are we descending to the open cave?”  Cullen quizzed through the radio.

 _“No.”_   She replied.  Cullen’s amber gaze shifted to the computer screen with her spoken prompt.  _“You see the discoloration on the limestone?  That’s where she sat at least the first year after she died.  You’ve probably seen the photos the Chargers submitted to you a few weeks ago.  Moss grew on it so it covered the discoloration until Dalish slipped and uncovered it.”_

Cullen leaned forward and moved the laptop closer to his position.  Evie’s hand touched to edge of a white and yellow discoloration on the cave wall across from her.  She outlined the colored position with her index finger.  _“She sat through her wet and active decomposition here.  Her legs and feet were underneath her behind, leaning on her right shoulder against this corner.”_

“But she was found below you.”  Cullen commented, remembering the photographs taken when the remains were found.

_“That occurred this spring.  During the spring thaw, the region experienced a minor earthquake that was not strong enough to feel by Haven’s residents.  However, it was enough of a shake and shift her skeleton from this position towards the boulder pinch.  Add in the flash flood from the mountain beside us through the area, and she flowed down below.  Those same occurrences caused the cave in below.”_

“Have you pinpointed how long she has been down there?”  Cullen asked curious.  The detectives have wanted a timeframe to add to the discovery report.  It could narrow down the number of missing person reports substantially.

_"More than three years.  Sorry I cannot get more specific.  Carbon testing down here is like throwing a dart at football field sized board.  You are talking about a sealed cave after all.  The internal environment during that time stayed around fifty degrees and damp.  No active animals lived in this part or I would see other bones or signs of habitation.  Not even snake eggs, thankfully.  Did find a giant spider fossil a few weeks ago.  I almost shat myself.  So, no light and open air was exposed to the body.  It does not mean bugs did not feed on the body.  Dorian and I estimated the conditions might have slowed decomposition a few months, but still.  Dry decomposition, meaning only bones and maybe some skin, began approximately eighteen months after death.  Then, the cave climate preserved the bones until the spring thaw and the flashflood opened the cave entrance.”_

Cullen radioed back.  “What sealed the cave after she fell?”

Evie did not immediately respond, her hand held camera shifting around the area a few minutes.  Finally, she reached down in a corner and picked up a dull grey rock about the size of her hand.  _“You see this?”_

“Yes.”

 _"It’s shale.”_   She exhaled deeply.  _“It’s shale in a limestone cave carved from several millennia of water flow.  There is no shale layer anywhere in this cave.  Look up from the entrance towards the mountain side nearest you._ ” 

Cullen obeyed, observing a cliff face hillside about one hundred yards from his location.  Layer of dull grey rock stuck out of the ground on top of limestone rock.  In one section, a huge chunk of shale was dug out of the hillside, although foliage filled in the indent.  “I see the shale.”

_“Imagine one huge slab of that over the entrance or even several smaller slabs.”_

Cullen had a bad feeling about this.  “Can a landslide move such pieces that far?”

 _“Possible, but_ very _unlikely.”_   Evie sighed again.  _“However, a person with truck and some straps can chisel it out and drag it that far_.”

Nausea rolled around the officer’s stomach.  “Evie, that suggesting intent…foul play.”

 _“I know.  I checked my findings three times.  I even asked an alluvial geologist the possibly of a few smaller slabs of shale could be pushed by a flashflood.  The flood require would have submerged the nearest valley and stream under four feet or water for a week.  And before you ask, I checked:  there was no such flood there in the last age.  The slab or slabs collapsed inward and down the cave during the earthquake and flashflood, thus the mound of rocks we found with the bones._ ”

“Fuck.”  Cullen pinched his nose.  “Either someone knew she was down there or wanted to cover up the cave for safety purposes without knowing some died down there.”

_“The cave is not on Nate and I’s topographic maps for the last ten years.  Of course, it could have been missed, but unlikely.  Caves like this pop up randomly throughout the Frostbacks.  Either no one knew about it or was only open for a few years before the slab was placed over top.”_

“We have to tell Cassandra.”  Cullen declared, groaning under the implications.

_“Before you do, I want that finger.  If it isn’t where I think it is, it can be foul play…but not…”_

“Not what?”  The ex-templar knew the answer, but he did not want to assume.

_“Pull me up to the cave lip.”_

Cullen exhaled, knowing Evie was not going to say anything until her hypothesis was proven one way or another.  He pulled the ropes to bring her upward.  Several feet of lines ran through the pulleys until Evie’s headlamp shined just at the cave lip. 

A hand popped up and tossed a walkie-talkie towards the laptop.  “Can you hear me?”  Her Free Marcher lilt echoed down the shaft.

“Yup.”  Cullen replied.  “Is here good?”

“Yeah.”  Evie responded, pulling the camera to her side.  “Let me twirl here for a few minutes.  Keep an eye on the camera feed.”

Cullen pivoted away from the climbing grid and reviewed the camera feed with the geologist.  Unlike the lower part of the shaft, the entrance contained more moss, forest growth and soil.  Furthermore, there were more cracks in the limestone and root obstruction that made harder to see shadowed areas.  Using her headlamp, Evie illuminated the shadowed regions, slowly reviewing each series of cracks and disrupted areas.

The geologist passed over the area in a circular review path once, then a second time.  Cullen could tell she was getting more discouraged, but possibly relieved at the same time.  Right as Evie nearly called out to him, the ex-templar squinted and leaned forward.

“Eve, stop right there.  Light up that area.”  Cullen requested, bring the laptop closer into his lap.  Evie followed his request, brushing away grass, leaves, and soil from a long two centimeter thick split into the rock.  The large oak beside the entrance had wedged a root into the crack.  Something about the root seemed wrong.  “You see that weird stone sitting on the root there?”

“Give me a second.”  Evie called, taking a digital photo of the area.  She slipped a blue latex glove from her cargo pocket.  She quickly put on the protection before lightly sweeping soil and debris from the crack.  “…that isn’t a stone.  _Fuck!_   Throw me an evidence number, please.”

Cullen pursed his lips and followed her request, watching as Evie took a few more photos with the plastic bright yellow number sign before gently lifting a small rectangular brown and cream object from the crack.  “That is a middle phalanx.”

“Middle finger bone…”  the ex-soldier remembered hearing Dorian speaking about the skeleton.  “If it’s hers, why would it be there?”

 “Get me an evidence bag for this.”  Evie ordered, her free hand waving out of the cave.  “I am going to see if the distal phalanx is farther in or possibly swallowed and absorbed by the tree root.  Trees grow around obstructions sometimes.  I’ve heard of cases of skeletons found in tree roots when a dead tree is pulled out the ground.”

Cullen stood up and claimed a bag from Evie’s gear by the solar panel.  He then went to location and handed her the evidence bag.  She traded him with the yellow number sign.  Evie’s lamp and head was just a few inches from the surface.  “How far down is it?”

“Just at the line dividing the soil layers and limestone.”  Evie explained, her eyes scowling at the crack.  She held the finger bone in her other hand.  Retrieving the bag, she placed it inside.  A few moments later, she pulled out the last bone from the crack.  “It was around the tree root…just like a person gripping on it for dear life…” she put it in the bag.  “Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you my hypothesis.”

Cullen had an idea what she concluded, but he kept it to himself.  A few tugs on the grid, and Evie emerged out of the hole and sat on the edge.  The geologist placed the evidence bag by her laptop, then sighed heavily.  Her shoulders hunched over, the weight of her findings breaking her obsessive resolve.

Evie’s best friend left his post by the climbing grid and kneeled down beside her.  Evie glanced at Cullen through her long auburn bangs.  He noticed her bright green eyes dull and eye lids hang heavy.  “Need anything?”

“Tequila?”

“It’s barely three o’clock.” Cullen commented, glancing at his sports watch.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”  Cullen huffed once, watching as Evie bit her lower lip and sway.  “I think she was murdered.”

“Tell me how.”  The officer requested, becoming the investigator instead of Evie’s friend.

The geologist’s tone shifted as she pointed towards the cliff face.  “She ran from the east, unfamiliar with the area.  Maybe she was looking over her shoulder at her attacker and didn’t see the cliff or she thinks she could slide down it easily.  She tumbled down, broke her ankle and loosened the soil and layer of shale sticking out of the side.  The attacker kept coming.  The woman struggles to her feet, tried to run on her broken leg and tripped into the cave, yet she was able to grab the root.  Her hands and fingers gripped the rock and surrounding foliage tightly to avoid the fall…”

Evie’s bright green eyes shift to the cave entrance.  “Her attacker got there and she was hanging, clawing her way out.”  She squeezed her eyes closed.  “Do you remember how I dislocated my finger in second grade?  I slipped my finger into rusty hole on the monkey bars.  My other hand slipped from another bar and gravity pulled me down but not before pulling that finger out of the socket.”

Cullen threw her a look.  “You think her finger was ripped from her hand from the fall?  It takes a great deal of force to dislocate an arm or leg and nearly a vehicle to rip it off.”

“Thus why I think the attacker pulled a Scar and Mufasa.”

The investigator stared at her, then down the hole.  Evie was referencing the scene in _The Lion King_ when Scar dung his claws into Mufasa’s paws and ripped him from the boulder edge.  Out of curiosity, Cullen mimicked the motion, leaning over the cave lip.  His arms reached easily to where Evie found the finger.  “Fuck…”  His amber eyes looked adjacent cave wall about three feet below.  A boulder jugged out.  “He ripped her from the edge and she busted her head on that ledge.”

“Yup.”  Evie exhaled, trying to control her breathing.  “I think he was actually reaching for her finger, thus why she clung onto the root.  The attacker knew about the ring or wanted it.”

“Or knew it had enough details to identify her.”  Cullen suggested, sitting back away from the entrance.  “He realized she was dead, but didn’t want anyone to know.  Maybe he found the game trail and access road walking out.  The assaulter came back later with some tools and a truck, pulled a few slabs of shale from the cliff side and slid them over the entrance.  This was murder.”

“At least covering up evidence and knowledge of a dead body.”  Evie amended his statement.  She began massaging her temples, one of her stress ticks.

Cullen grunted, reaching into his pocket for his cellphone.  “I got to call Cassandra about this.  You have it all documented to show her.”

Evie flipped her hand towards her laptop.  “Yup.  Everything’s there.”

Typing on his smartphone, Cullen dialed Cassandra’s work number from his contacts.  He waited as he heard the first two rings.  A think Nevarran accent called through the speaker.  _“Pentaghast.”_

“Cass, it’s Cullen.”  The ex-templar introduced.  Cullen kept pinching his nose with his free hand.  “I’m with Eve at the cave site.  She found the missing finger.  Based on her tests and walkthrough, we have reason to believe this case is a murder or at least a cover up.”

Cullen waited a few moments, the line dead silent as she processed the information.  _“Is Trevelyan with you?”_

The man glanced at his friend beside him.  “Yeah, she is still tied to the grid from the dive.”

 _“I advise you two come to the morgue as soon as possible.”_   Cassandra recommended, her voice shifting away from the receiver.  Cullen heard Dorian’s voice in the background.  _“I will call Astrid, Nate, and Alistair to join us.”_

Cullen wrinkled his brow.  “Why them?”

_“We have a possible identification on the skeleton.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any theories on who the skeleton is and why they were possibly murdered? Let me know in the comments.


	13. Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Everyone! Yesterday was an USA holiday, so my apologizes for the day delay. 
> 
> Chapter Song: "Meet Me In The Mystery" by Lissie
> 
> Trigger Warning: Description of death, murder, abuse, and familial issues
> 
> Once again, there are mentions of forensic evidence, and I'm not a expert. I tried to be realistic, but please let me know if I messed something up. Thanks!
> 
> Furthermore, I don't like how this chapter sounds. When I wrote it, I was pretty sick and could not be clear, so I apologize for the horrible grammar and bad editing. Every time I re-read if, I went ewwww. I hope it is clear enough to understand.

Astrid did not know why she was paged over the intercom to report to the morgue.  Thank goodness the emergency room that day shift was slow or she would have left Anders to handle all those patients alone.  It was not like Haven Memorial Hospital received many patients normally.  However, as the only regional hospital on this side of the Frostbacks, they accepted patients who transverse the mountains, harmed themselves on the Chantry ruins, or vehicle accidents along the highway into Orlais.  It was quite normal to hear Skinner’s EMS helicopter buzz over the hospital to land on the roof helipad.

The doctor assumed that was why she was paged at first, preparing her specialized kit for trauma victims.  Anders noticed she gathered her triage bag.  “Last time I checked, there’s no way to raise the dead, Asty.”  He sassed, flashing her a smile.

“Don’t tell that to Dorian.”  Astrid commented, returning the grin.  “You will be okay alone while I figure out what is happening?”

Her colleague referenced the empty triage beds separated by hideous teal curtains.  “I hope housekeeping doesn’t expects me to fold linens.  I just ball up my sheets after each wash.”

Astrid just shook her head giggling, waved her hand, and exited the emergency department.  She appreciated and admired Anders as both a doctor and friend.  He was a gentle man who genuinely cared for everyone no matter their background.  She noticed a dark stare in his cobalt blue eyes like he had another side, violent and uncontrollable, but he never threatened anyone or raised his fist.  He made sure everyone heard him rant about refugee rights, the Chantry education system, and income inequality, but he never physically lashed out.

When Astrid transferred to Haven from Denerim, she feared what serving in such a small hospital would do to expanding experience when compared with her residency and junior training.  Anders greeted her with a smile and assisted her in adjusting to a closer knit medical team versus a huge diverse health system in Ferelden’s capital.  There were days she missed the city’s craziness, especially after arguing with a Chantry pilgrim or meeting a mother whose child contracted measles because they stupidly did not vaccinate their child.  _Vaccines cause the Blight_ , she remembered such parents declaring.  They explained they read it on the internet on some silly blog and that the physician was the dumb one.  Astrid kept her mute face while internally screaming she did not spent thousands of dollars on nearly a decade of higher education to just be told a non-peer reviewed blog online stated bullshit.  She just gently explained the misconception, sometimes diving into her personal experiences during the Blight to diplomatically announce the mother was a moron.

The emergency room doctor glanced at her cellphone for the time.  “Maker, I wish I could drink on my break.  Dorian probably has some good wine stored in a cooler.”  Astrid muttered under her breath as she meandered towards the back hospital freight elevator.  “Maybe he thinks my shift is over and called me for a few glasses…”

The Fereldan doctor did not know what to think about her pathology coworker at first.  Her body froze and sense alit when Evie introduced them, a Tevinter medical coroner.  Astrid heard horror stories about what their doctors did to their patients.  Some Tevinter ‘magisters’, a label for senior physicians, still practiced bloodletting, the four humours, and purposefully tricked patients into surgery to steal their organs.  The Imperium allowed the black market organ trade, child and racial slavery, and sex trafficking to flourish just as long they got kickbacks on the illegal money exchanging hands.

By the end of their first conversation, Astrid regretted her biases clouded her impression of Dr. Dorian Pavus-Bull.  He escaped barely the Imperium when homosexuals were rounded up and sent to prisons and re-educator centers.  The pathologist fought against the black market trade, which was one reason why his father worked with authorities to arrest him.  Dorian’s spirit called to Astrid as a man who could not live as himself in that world.  He hid his relationship with The Iron Bull because both sexual and racial discrimination ousted them to the oligarchy government.  He followed his father’s medical practices until the magister wanted to operate on Dorian’s brain to change him into a respectable, heterosexual Tevinter physician.  The man did not care if he potentially turn his son into a vegetable!

Pressing the down button inside the elevator, Astrid saw her inner, buried self in Dorian.  He remarked once during one of their wine dates about walking life screaming in the inside, while looking calm and collected outward.  She felt happy for him for being free of those previous boundaries despite living his former life behind and could never return. 

Yet, Astrid knew she could never do the same.  Just like the early morning nearly two months ago, Astrid weighed the pros and cons of her decisions and still believed she made the right conclusion.  She left Alistair in bed asleep after their night of passion and snuck back to her house, both the General and Maia in toe as her only judges.  She washed their sex and sweat from her fair skin, holding in the tears of once again leaving her wishes at the back door.  Her mind always considered letting her desires change her world, but she remembered that night in her parents’ bathroom:  Evie lying in the bathtub following her failed suicide attempt, Cullen’s blanched face staring at the tile floor, Nate’s anger and frustration over losing one friend and potentially another, and Alistair’s hazel blue eyes focused on her on floor, waiting for her to state what to do.

Astrid nodded, stilling her inner emotions bubbling up from their dark abyss.  She vowed long ago if she still felt harm and regret thinking about that night over a decade ago, she will not give in to her passions.  Everything was a simple sacrifice for Maya and her memory.  The cons still outweighed the physician’s selfish wishes.

The freight elevator doors slid opened into a long hallway in the basement.  Subway tiles lined the walls heading to the morgue.  That day, empty gurneys and stretchers lined either side of the hall.  Dorian had pulled out the medical equipment from the main reviewing room at the end of the hall.  In the distance, Astrid noticed a line of chairs facing the examination table.  Was there a medical procedure showing today she signed up for, but forgot?  Was this about one of her patients she lost and needed her statement for an inquest?  No, she had not had a patient die in several months, thank the Maker.  Every time a heart stopped beating or a brain ceased responding while under her care, Astrid’s soul died with it.  She always saw Maya’s dull and glossy blue eyes gazing back at her.  Blight patients were the worst in rising a reaction out of Astrid.  There was never enough wine, Evie’s homemade bath salts, and hot water for the doctor’s big whirlpool tub after those days.

“Cullen will be here with Evie in ten minutes…” A Nevarran thick voice began in the main examination room out of view from the approaching Astrid.  “Nate just texted and is parking his bus.  Alistair’s leaving Leliana’s office now.”

“Is this the best way to approach this?”  Dorian’s voice echoed down the tile hallway.  His typically uplifting accent sounded flat and disconcerting.

“They will have the best knowledge on where to begin the investigation.  With the identity, my office will work to find next of kin.  I…I don’t know how they will handle this information, so it is better to tell them all together.”  The Nevarran explained, walking across the doorframe.  The figure hinted a second of who spoke with Dorian.  “You know how they rely on one another during difficult situations.”

Astrid knew it was Cassandra right then.  Her strong, booming voice still sent shivers down Astrid’s spine.  There were few people who could view beyond Astrid’s mannered and calm persona, and Cassandra Pentaghast tore it off immediately after introductions.  It made sense; she was a Chantry Seeker Detective.  They are trained in psychological tactics to discover if a person was lying or omitting information.  A person was not just about how they spoke, but their body language, eye blinking, and more.  Seeker abilities removed a person’s natural and purposeful defenses to find the truth. 

Even with years of practice and careful crafting, Cassandra saw in her moonstone eyes there was more to Dr. Astrid Elissa Cousland.  Astrid admired the woman for her tough, individual personality, but the doctor avoided her like the plague.  She did not need an outsider poking around in the Pox’s business.  Yet, the seeker calmed Nate and gave him something to live for.  The park ranger expressed more emotions in the last year than his entire life.  Whatever wound and tightened his explosive temper fizzed away since dating the seeker.  Astrid would thank her with her last breath, knowing Nate feared being like his family:  violent and unforgiving.  However, being connected to one Pox allowed the detective to see _all_ the clan, specifically hints of secrets that could ruin Astrid’s precious friendships.

But if the Pox’s were summoned to this meeting, Cassandra already began the assault on their tight-knit relationship.  What happened that required the Pox’s assistance?  What information is the seeker hoping to gain?  Astrid did not care right then that Nate loved this woman and wanted to marry her.  If Cassandra threatened Astrid’s cherished comrades, she will protect the others and not give a damn insulting this seeker.  She could not save Maya, but damn it, she will die for the others.

“What will you tell us all together?”  Astrid hissed as she entered the main morgue, her moon grey eyes darting between Dorian and Cassandra.  Dorian twirled and twisted his moustache between his fingers, while leaning against his messy desk covered with books and folders.  Cassandra paced in front of the examination table, running her hands up and down her neck.  She kept tossing her black pixie hair with each flip.

In a flash, Dorian pivoted off his desk towards the nearest body cooler to his desk.  While tugging one hand on a cooler door, the other grasp a few clean wine glasses on a shelf.  “Ah, Asty.  Let me get you some wine.”

“I’m working, Pavus.” Astrid’s tone was low and rough.  She lowered her chin like she would attack if provoked, but her face disguised her alarm.

“Wynne is giving you the rest of the day off.  On my request.”  Cassandra declared, crossing her arms over her black and red Chantry uniform.

“My patients need me.”  The ER physician proclaimed, somewhat insulted this woman went to her boss instead of speaking directly with Astrid.

“I need your assistance on a case, Asta.”  The seeker’s tone was softer, almost pleading.  Very few people called her Asta, a name specifically reserved for her parents and medical publication.  It was her great grandmother’s name.  ‘Astrid’ was an Anderfels variant spelling.

Dorian poured her some dark red wine and handed it to the physician, his lips pursed but smiling at her.  “You’ll need it.  Please?”

Astrid warily accepted the glass, but did not drink.  She sniffed as if it was poisoned or drugged.  Her grey gaze studied the room for any clue about what is about to happen.  She was a strategist, excellent at chess and triage thus why she was a natural challenge to Cullen’s tactical chess style.  She always noticed when Dorian cheated.  But, Evie excelled at noticing small clues in these situations despite rarely noticing changes in her environment.  Maybe when the geologist arrived, she can shed some life.

“Howe, Maker dammit!  Don’t fucking trip me like that!”

Speaking of the woman.

Astrid perked an eyebrow.  “Dori, if you think I need wine, you better have a case of Antivan tequila in there for your cousin.”

Dorian sighed, flipping his hand.  “Alas, no.  I fear Felix and I will be cleaning this place up tonight after her furious fit.”

Astrid’s attention flicked back to the seeker.  “Haven will burn more like it.”

“What is this about Alistair singing ‘Wannabe’?”  Nate called, waltzing into the room with Cullen, Alistair, and Evie in toe.

The sheriff first met Astrid’s gaze, reading her internal struggle immediately, the only person she allowed seeing her fear.  He moved quickly to her side before focusing on the seeker.  “I thought you weren’t going to tell them about that?!”

Cassandra wrinkled her nose.  Her espresso eyes shifted over Alistair’s shoulder to her Fereldan partner, then back to the sheriff.  Cullen said nothing, keeping close to the hallway.  “This is serious.  There is time for joking.”

Nate leaned against the far wall behind his girlfriend.  “You just called us together.  It’s either about a joke or playing a prank on someone.”

“We should get matching rings like those Captain Planet kids.”  Alistair added, smirking at his best friend.  “With our power combined, we’re-“

“-completely sophomoric idiots.”  Evie interrupted.  She wheezed by Astrid and Dorian, throwing open the morgue freeze.  “Fuck.”  The geologist pivoted, saw Astrid’s filled glass of wine, took it, and guzzled all the contents.  With a bleh, she shoved it at the pathologist.  “More.  Now.”

“What’s wrong with her?”  Alistair nudged his chin at Evie as Dorian refilled the wine glass.  She barely waited before gulping it down again, wincing at the taste.  “Red wine gives her migraines like me.”

“It’s been one of those days…”

Astrid glanced over her shoulder at Cullen, who leaned on the doorframe and pinched his nose.  His voice was coarse and guttural like he had not drank water in a while.  Astrid’s physician training kicked in, scanning the man for withdrawal symptoms.  He was pale, but his cheeks flushed.  She noted how his wavy blond hair was tossed like he ran his fingers through it during the drive to the hospital.  However, he was not shaking and sweating.  Not withdrawal, but stress.

The doctor’s grey eyes flicked back to Evie, who swallowed her third glass of wine while leaning against Dorian’s desk.  Leaves and dirty dropped from her hair as she tugged at her loose auburn braid at the base of her neck.  Both Cullen and Evie looked worse for wear.

“What is going on?”  Astrid questioned, her authoritative stare boring into Cassandra.  All four Pox’s friends stopped and focused attention on the doctor.

The seeker analyzed her back, her cheek twitched.  “Have a seat, and I will explain.”

The boys first looked to Astrid, who nodded before claiming a metal chair in front of the medical table.  They always responded that way with requests.  Since they were children, everyone looked to Astrid on how to proceed even if they had other intentions.  They all knew Astrid always had a plan, typically to get them out of a jam.  Because she never showed her temper in her face, they had to physically acknowledge her. 

As usual, Evie ignored the edict instead reaching into her cargo pant pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.  She held it up to her cousin.  “You’re missing this.”

Dorian’s grey eyes widened, glancing at the seeker first before taking the item from Evie.  “I’ll see if they match.  Do tell me later how you discovered it.”

Evie gulped some more wine, twirling towards the row of seats.  “Thus why I’m settling for wine right now.  Cullen, we need to pick up tequila on the way home.”

Cullen eyed his new roommate suspiciously.  “If you keep this up, there’s no way we’re allowing you near your jeep.”

Evie patted his head softly, allowing his curls to twist around her fingers.  He winced in pain and she retracted her hand, frowning.  “You catch on quick, thus why _we_ will do it together.  We’ll pick up whiskey for you, don’t worry.”

“Drinking night at the townhouse?”  Nate remarked, perking an eyebrow from his seat at the end.  “Aren’t we invited?”

“B. Y. O. B.”  Evie huffed back, claiming the wine bottle and forgoing the glass altogether.

Cassandra threw Dorian a look.  “I told you they rely on one another…just with booze.”

“Just don’t expect Alistair to pick it up…” Evie added, flicking the sheriff’s earlobe.  Alistair winced, about to start a shoving fight with the geologist.  Cullen just rolled his amber eyes and groaned.  Nate snickered and watched the show.

“Children.”  That’s all Astrid said while taking her seat on Cullen’s other side at the opposite end of Nate.  The Pox’s immediately settled down, clearing their throats and straightening themselves in each seat.  Astrid grinned at the behaving adults along the line.  She crossed her legs and turned her attention to Cassandra.  “Now, Seeker.  Why have you called us here?”

Cassandra exhaled, rubbing her eyes.  “Maybe Cullen and Evie should state what they found first before my news.”

Cullen squinted at his partner.  “That is an ongoing investigation, Cass.  Nothing against Nate and Astrid, but that is sensitive information.”

“So is what I am about to say.”  Cassandra snapped before sighing again.  “Fine.  I’ll go first.  You’ll see why they were brought in too.  Just…”  He waved a hand at Evie, who took a long swig from the wine bottle.  “…keep that to a minimum, Trevelyan.”  Evie took a longer gulp just to spite the seeker.  Maker, those two women were stubborn and controlling.  They mirrored one another so much that to the point they hated it.

The seeker gave a disgusted grunt before returning to Dorian’s desk to claim a file.  “We have a possible identification on our Jane Doe we found in the cave a few weeks ago.  Why I gathered you all here is to help find some DNA to compare with the remains.”

“There was none in the missing person file?”  Cullen questioned, slightly surprised by the missing detail.

“The report submitter did not have any.  He…”  The seeker rubbed her nose.  “…his mother had been absent already four years by the time he reported it.  His father refused to even search for her once she never moved with the family from Haven.  The father proclaimed she left him, but because they did not believe in divorce, they were not legally separated.”

“Maker fucking ultra-conservative Andrastians sounds like.”  Evie mumbled under her breath.  She brought her feet and legs under her behind.  Astrid knew it as her fetal position, when she waits for the nuclear bomb to annihilate all life.  In this instance, the bomb was terrible news.  Astrid did not know if it was to what Cassandra was about to state or her own contribution.  On cue, Nate shook off his ranger coat and handed it to Alistair.  He wrapped her in the jacket blanket for warmth.  What happened before Cullen and Evie arrived?  What was lost that Evie returned to Dorian?

“There are several families like that in Haven.”  Alistair informed, shifting in such a way to allow Evie to rest her head on his shoulder once knowing she was comfortable.  “Because of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, many conservative families move here to be close to Andraste’s final resting place.”

“The son did not believe the separation story and told police in Orlais he feared foul play was involved.”  Cassandra continued, her expresso eyes glanced at Cullen.

“Orlais?”  Nate sang, wrinkling his brow.  “If they were from here, why not submit it to a foreign country?”

“That’s where he was receiving treatments…”  Cassandra’s voice softened.  “He turned eighteen so he did not need to his father’s retribution of filing the missing person’s report.  Apparently, he wished to submit it since the night she disappeared, but his father was…controlling.  He submitted the report and died of leukemia a week later.  Because it was an international case already four years old with the submitter as the only reference, the file got lost in the system.  Fereldan investigators were contacted at some point and went to speak with the father.  They discovered he died of a heart attack a year after his son died.  Apparently, the father never believed in medicine.  He refused medical treatment for a heart condition, citing that modern medical science’s barbaric ways killed his son.  If he was to live, the Maker will heal him.  He died without the Maker’s intervention.”

It was Astrid’s turn to groan and wince.  “Maker, I hate those types.  I’ve seen more children harmed by their parents’ faithful beliefs.  A small treatment of antibiotics would have saved them, but they preferred a Chantry sister praying over a septic child.  It’s a form of child abuse.”

Alistair tilted his head, eying the seeker standing in front of them.  “So husband and son were died, a missing mother from another country who was last seen at least four years after the fact…”  The sheriff tossed his spiky hair a few times.  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is what we call a cold case lost in international limbo.  Meanwhile, you have a woman decaying in a sealed cave until this summer.”

“What makes you think this missing person is our Jane Doe?”  Cullen leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Time table and known facts.”  Cassandra grunted, her cheek twitching.  “Accounting for the four years before reporting missing, the woman has been MIA for ten years.  The missing person’s profile is a human woman, born in the Free Marches but moved to Ferelden around the age of eighteen.  Age fifty-five at time of disappearance.  Lastly…the son stated his mother had a matching an inscribed wedding ring as her husband’s with the date-“

“-Justinian 5th 14:96 Atomic.”  Evie blurted before taking a swig of wine.  Everyone eyed her.  “What?  You think Cullen is the only one good with dates.”

“My memory focuses on historical dates, Eve.”  Cullen commented, perking an eyebrow at the geologist.

“She’s been obsessed with the case since Day One.”  Nate informed his girlfriend, who was startled by Evie’s spontaneous information.

“Okay.  Who is she then?”  Astrid questioned, hiding her impatience the longer the conversation continued.  None of this explained why she and her best friends were here.

It was Dorian who answered.  “Her name is Revka Amell.”  Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing them again.

Astrid was surprised that her first emotion was terror.  Yes, there was surprise or couse lingering under the fright, but flight-or-fight response demanded she grab the Pox’s and run away.  Immediately upon hearing the name, the image of a short, blacked haired and blue eyed older woman standing her farmhouse porch appeared in her mind’s eye.  She gently smiled as young Astrid walked away.  Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she waved hesitantly.

_"Thank you, Asty, for being her friend…I am grateful for you in our lives.  May the Maker bless you for your kindness and loyalty.”_

Evie’s shout pulled Astrid out of her internal fear.  She threw Nate’s jacket across the room and barely stopped herself from slinging the wine bottle.  Instead, she started to kick the air and pace.  _“Fuck!_ You got to be fucking wrong!  No way!”  The woman screamed and tossing papers and chairs around the room. 

Alistair jumped up first to stop Evie, holding her arms down from tearing the examination room apart.  Dorian took her from the sheriff and hugged her gently.  “Shush, my dear.  Just scream it out okay.”  Evie did exactly that into her cousin’s shoulder, hammering her fist against his harden chest and cradling the wine bottle closely.

Astrid’s attention shifted to the other Pox’s, preparing to pull them away before all of them started freaking like Evie.  Alistair shifted away from his screaming best friend, rubbing his forehead.  His mouth gaped like he was about to holler too—or even punk—but no sound or digestive bile came out.  He just paced in a circle like someone knocked him in the head.  Nate slumped in his seat, sliding down at little as both hands covered his face.  He tugged his man bun a few times, gritting his teeth in pain; something more harming than the news.  Astrid’s grey eyes shifted to her left where Cullen pinched his nose, wincing.  His free hand ran through his tossed unkempt hair and rubbed his neck.

“You’re _sure_ , Cass?”  The Fereldan ex-templar hissed without looking up from his leaning position.  “Can’t there be anyone else it could be?  Anyone else than Maya’s mother?”

Cassandra exhaled and shook her head.  “No, the circumstances around her disappearance and the timeline matches.  According to her son, she went missing the day they moved away from Haven.  He stated he saw her night before going to bed.  When he woke up, his father had claimed the moving van and stated she left at dawn in a taxi.  The son did admit her suitcases and several belongings were missing like she did leave, but it was too suspicious.  Even his older brother who came to help move the family agreed with their father.”

“Which son reported this, Cassandra?”  Astrid asked, thinking about the Amell siblings.

“Micah Amell.”

Astrid traded glances with Cullen.  The ex-soldier spoke for them, whiskey eyes wide.  “Micah was Rosalie’s age.  He died of _leukemia?!_ ”

Dorian nodded and replied for the seeker, who hung her head.  “Seven years ago.  Apparently, his father and he lived in Val Royeaux at the time, just the two of them.  By the time they found the aggressive cancer, they gave him only a year to live even with treatment.  Micah wanted to fight it, since he was the last living child.”

Nate threw the seeker and coroner a look.  “Last alive?  There were _five_ children in that family:  Abraham Havard, Rebecca Cathaire, Hector Claude, Maya Solona, and Micah Hessart.”

“I always wondered why Maya never had an Andrastian historical middle name…”Alistair mentioned, rubbing his hand over his strawberry goatee.  “At least she wasn’t named after Andraste’s executer like Micah…”

Cassandra pushed herself off the examination table, no corpse present at the time.  Although, Astrid’s mind kept projecting Maya’s linen-wrapped body on the slab, waiting to be transporting on the Chantry pyre for cremation.  “Abraham might be still alive, although unlikely.  He is a templar, but most his age don’t live that long.”  Astrid and Cassandra’s focus shifted to Cullen.  The ex-knight nodded.  They all knew what she meant:  lyrium insanity.  Evie even stopped her outburst to acknowledge the hinted outcome.  Lucky, Nate and Alistair never asked the seeker to elaborate.  “I do know though Hector and Rebecca are dead.  Hector died in the Battle for Denerim, a civilian caught in the cross fire during General Loghain’s regency over the presidency.  _Chantry Sister_ Rebecca died of the Blight while treating blighted civilians and refugees at a Chantry hospital called Ostagar.  Most people did not survive that place.”

Cullen nodded, rubbing his neck.  “Ostagar is known as a place of death.  First an outpost against the Chasind, then a major battle against blighted warriors and the royal Fereldan army a few ages ago.”

“I’ve heard about that Chantry hospice.”  Astrid referenced Alistair and Nate with her hand.  “We were almost sent there with the National Guard during the Blight.  Poor Rebecca…that’s was no way to die.”

Nate finally stood and stretched.  “All the Amells are dead…all by natural causes or accident in less than five years…”

“Not all natural.  Revka was _murdered_!”

That was when surprise pulsed through Astrid’s body, her heart thumping so hard it might explode out of her chest.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nate jumping from his seat and Alistair pivoting on his heel.  Cullen just exhaled, running his hand through his tossed hair.

All eyes laid on Evie, glaring at everything and nothing.  She turned away from her surprised cousin and slammed down the nearly empty wine bottle.  “You want to know how?!”  She thre a fiery look at her cousin.  “You want to know where I found that finger?  What Cullen and I figured out at that damn cave!?”  Her ire was focused on Cassandra now, who glared right back at the geologist.  “For weeks, a little dread nagged at me.  Ever since collecting her bones, something did not seem right.  The shale rocks in a limestone cave, void of that rock.  Her broken ankle and smashed in skull.”  Her bright green contact orbs met Cullen’s grunting stare.  “It makes sense, Cullen.  You know what is west of that damn cave like do!”

All attention shifted to the ex-soldier still sitting and rubbing his neck.  His neck was rubbed raw red.  His right hand trembled.  His voice was hoarse, breaking between each syllable.  “The Amell Homestead…almost five miles from that entrance.”

“Exactly!”  Evie hollered, pacing across the whole group.  “She ran _five miles_!  Tripped down the shale cliff and tumbled into the cave.  She grabbed that oak root, clinging for her life.  Her attacker found her, grabbed her head or shoulder and yanked her off the side so hard her finger ripped off, with gravity’s help.  The fling causes her to bust her head against an outcrop that it busted like a watermelon!  Then, the sonofabitch hid her body!  Used a truck—a _moving_ truck—and placed a shale slab over the entrance.  Even if she fell on accident, there was intent to hide the body.  No storm or flood could have moved slabs of shale that far!”

Astrid slowly lowered herself into the provided chair, afraid her internal shaking would alert her friends and the investigators that she was rattled.  Her mind blanked as her mouth gaped.  It was terrifying to think Revka Amell was dead and forgotten, but to be _murdered_ and purposefully hid for over a decade.

“There is no way, Trev.”  Nate shook his finger at her.  The Pox’s threw him a look.  His voice rattled like his temper was rising.  “There is no way anyone would harm Mama Amell.”

“Tell that to the domestic assault on her body…”  Alistair mumbled, slapping his hand against his thigh.

Astrid buried her feelings, her finest talent.  She stood up and straightened her back.  “We do not even know if this is even her anyway.”

“Asta’s right-“

-Maker, Astrid wished Cassandra did not use that name.

“-We need to confirm the identity first.”  Cassandra called, her own tone strong and direct.  It quieted the group.  “I asked you all here because you were familiar with the family.  If anyone knows where to find a DNA sample, it is you five.”

Cullen finally stood and approached his partner.  “Cass, we cannot touch this case.  If it is Revka Amell _and_ a murder, we are too close to the events that led up to her disappearance.”

Astrid first wanted to hug that soldier.  He was providing the Pox’s an out to not be harmed by everything.  However, he also just introduced a huge can of worms.  Astrid envisioned a door in her heart and soul, one she closed and locked over a decade ago.  Once the Pox’s agreed to the new terms of friendship, Astrid locked away everything prior to Maya’s death.  It pushed away those hateful words and situations uttered during a time of sorrow and passion.

Yet, that same door had an axe strike it suddenly.  Wood splinters flung every which way with the collision.  The sharp hatchet blade shined and called to Astrid to come and open that door.  Cullen’s statement brought back the prospect of visiting everything.  After all, Revka Amell laid beyond that door.  If she was Jane Doe, the explanation to her death lingered beyond.

Astrid somehow did not vomit into her mouth.

Everything she had done for eleven years all the sudden seemed at threat.

“Cullen’s right.”  Astrid jumped to her feet.  “We cannot be involved.  If we want justice for Revka, _if_ it is her, we cannot assist you.”

Cassandra studied her closely.  Her espresso eyes reviewed her sudden agreement with her partner.  Cullen did not receive that type of scrutiny.  Why her now?  “Don’t you think I have already thought that?”  Her focus shifted back to Cullen.  “I already called this in.  They are sending Rylen to assist me.  You and the Pox will be informants only.  Cullen, you cannot be involved anymore.”

Cullen nodded, his muscles tense.  “Of course, Seeker.”

“You’re giving this up so quickly!?”

Damn it, Evie.

Evie stormed over and placed herself between the Pox’s and Cassandra.  “You need us!  I worked for weeks to reach this point, and-“

“-we appreciate it, Trevelyan!”  Cassandra huffed back.  “Yet, to avoid conflict of interest, you must forfeit all your findings.”

“Fuck you I will!”  Evie yelled, thundering forward to punch Cassandra.  Nate grabbed her from behind.  She squirmed in his arms.  “You Chantry fucks will bury it like you bury everything else!  You cannot have a murder on your precious religious site.  The Press!  The protests!  A woman was killed and left down a cave!  This whole town knows about her-“  Evie froze, her struggling ceased as her voice went weak.  “…When they heard who…Maker…”

Nate hugged his friend instead of restrained her.  “Evie’s right to a degree, Cassie.  Everyone knows everything going on here.  Once they find out it is Revka…”  He sighed and buried his face into Evie’s scalp.  “Don’t hide this case though.  I can only imagine what the Chantry bureaucrats told you to do, but don’t do that to Haven…to us.”

Cassandra wrinkled her nose.  “I thought you knew me better than that, Nathaniel.  I always seek the truth.  I will not allow the Chantry to sweep this away, especially about a Haven mother.  That’s why I requested Rylen to assist me.”

“Who is Rylen?”  Alistair called, standing the farthest away.  He had made himself small throughout the whole exchange.  Every bone in Astrid’s body told her to run to him and hold him close, but she kept firm.

“Knight-Captain Rylen MacKenzie of Starkhaven’s Templar Order.[1]  Well, formally of the Order.  He retired like I did a few months ago.  He is a good friend who assisted Cass and I after Kirkwall’s riots.  He is an honorable and excellent investigator.  He handles cases like this as a third-party analyzer to avoid conflict of interests.  He did the same in the Order, but now focuses on Chantry jurisdiction cases.”  Cullen explained to the worried friends.  “He and Cass will figure out what happened.  Neither will allow the Chantry to avoid justice.”  His amber eyes focused on Evie as she leaned against Nate.  “Please, Eve.”

The geologist rubbed her temples to the point they were bright red.  With one last sigh, she spoke.  “Fine, _but_ I will know if you sling any bullshit, Pentaghast.”

Nate squeezed Evie a few times.  “I wish you two got along…”

“They do.”  Alistair commented.  “Just as well as putting a weasel and snake in a barrel.”

Both Cassandra and Evie threw him a look and groaned.  The seeker cleared her throat.  “So, we agree Cullen and Alistair won’t be involved in the investigation this point forward, only as informants like the rest of you.  Understood, Sheriff?”

Alistair tossed his spiky hair.  “Yeah.  I’m going to have my hands full with keeping Haven sane when they hear about both a murder and that Revka Amell is the victim.  You’re telling Leliana though.”

Cassandra grunted.  “She probably already knows somehow…”  Dorian huffed once, nodding.  He had made himself invisible since the murder announcement.  “Okay _informants_ , where can I find a DNA sample for comparison?”

Alistair stepped forward.  “The Amell Homestead is still around.  No one moved in after they left town.”

Cullen perked an eyebrow.  “Why not?”

Nate pointed at Evie’s face.  “The Trevelyans bought the mineral rights.  Papa Amell attempted to sell the house and land for years, but the town considered the place sacred _and_ cursed.  The patriarch finally agreed to a deal with Rian Trevelyan.  Rian just never did anything with it yet.”

“The house is still there.  Falling apart but still there.”  Alistair added, crossing his arms over his sheriff badge.

“DNA will not have survived that long.  It decays if not kept in proper conditions.  Heat, humidity, and sunlight quickens the half life.”  Astrid explained, her mind returning to her college years.

“That does not mean we shouldn’t try.  Even if we find DNA from one of the children, it could still be used for a match.”  Cassandra critically eyed Astrid again, scanning her for a reason why she was so against helping.  Astrid kept her mute face, her eyes dull and blank, while her mind ran with fear and desire to protect her friends.

“If it is Trevelyan property, I know the mining company keeps the electricity on to those areas for surveyors and miners.  A refrigerator or freezer could still harbor something.”  Evie proclaimed about her family business practices.  “Ask Rian, Seeker.  He will probably give you permission to search the house.”

“I will.”  Cassandra nodded, seeing a plan form in her espresso eyes.  “The Chargers will be assisting me until Rylen arrives.”

“Check Ab’s templar file.”  Cullen suggested, rubbing his two-day stubble.  “They might have his DNA on file and of course, he might be next of kin if…”  He sighed, and pinched his nose.  “Do you know if all the children were cremated?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.”  Cassandra replied, leaning against the examination table again.  “As you all described before, this was an ultra-conservative Andrastian family.”

“That’s the biggest understatement of the age…”  Evie muttered, sipping from the wine bottle again.

Cassandra’s cheek twitched.  Nate explained before his girlfriend responded.  “Evie was barred from the Amell House by eighth grade after refusing to say grace during a dinner.”

“I never said grace at home, and I wasn’t going to do it there for sure.  My Great-Aunt Lucille still says I am going to the Void…”  Evie mumbled, gritting her teeth.

“You tossed your plate across the room when Papa Amell ordered you to bow your head.”  Nate declared, poking Evie’s cheek.

“We learned that day alfredo sauce is a good paint color…”  Alistair cooed.  “It brought out the red oak on the ceiling.”  The Pox’s all nodded.

“Nonetheless,” Astrid directed the clan back to the main subject, trying to contain the smirk remembering that specific dinner.  “Rebecca would have been burned because of the Blight.  Micah was probably cremated following his cancer treatments to purify his body, as Mr. Amell would have believed it would destroy the chemotherapy presence.  Hector’s body might have never been found after the battle.  Most Denrim was destroyed and on fire following the airstrikes.  Survivors called the airstrikes, “The Archdemon.”  If you don’t find Ab, the next of kin would be your only other source.”

“Do you know who that might be?”  Cassandra questioned, studying each person present. 

All the Pox’s shook their heads.  Cullen was the one to speak.  “The family was distant.  To have Maya as a friend was a great surprise, but the Amells trusted most of us.”

Nate hissed under his breath.  “Look how well that worked out…”

“They never spoke about extended family?”

Cullen shook his head.  “They barely talked about each other to anyone outside the family.  Ab and Rebecca already moved away by the time the family moved to Haven.  Hector left a few years later for Denerim.”

“He was always considered the lone wolf sibling.  Never spoke to anyone.”  Alistair added, cracking his neck.

“Why had Abraham and Rebecca already moved away?”  Cassandra asked, curious.

“Ab, Becky, and Hector were all at least a decade older than Maya and Micah.”  Astrid stepped in to explain.  After all, she knew the family the best.  “One of the reason why they moved from Gwain was because they wanted a better life for the younger children.  Maya and Micah weren’t really allowed to speak to their older brother and sisters.”

“It didn’t stop Maya though.” Evie finally spoke.  “She wrote them letters and had one of us send them or we allowed her to use our computers to e-mail.”

“Becky was the only one who responded though.”  Astrid sighed, holding herself.  Alistair noticed and slowly came to her side.  “Maya felt alone without them, but Becky was in a nunnery earning her habit.  She rarely visited home, even after becoming a full Chantry sister.  Hector was distance on principle.”

“Only Ab came home, and then Maya wasn’t allowed to play with us until he left.  Her parents actually kept her out of school those weeks.”  Alistair remembered, shaking his head.  “However, I didn’t know he became a templar.”

“None of us did…”  Cullen pinched his nose.  He probably remembered Maya’s pleads for him to not join the Order, but he did not listen.  If Maya knew about lyrium addiction, but could not say without telling about her brother, no wonder she attempted to sway Cullen away from service.

“I think this is enough for now.”  Cassandra declared, waving towards the door.  “Thank you for your suggestions.  Dorian and I have some work to do.  We will investigate the house probably in the next day or so once we get permission from Rian Trevelyan.  You all should go and rest.  This must be very difficult.”

The Pox’s mumbled and nodded.  Evie walked back to her cousin and hugged him.  “Sorry for drinking your wine.”

“Dear, if it sways you to give up that horrible tequila, it was worth every sovereign.”  Dorian sang, bringing her close to put she bent her back until the pressure.

“It didn’t.”

The Tevinter pathologist rolled his grey eyes.  “Ugh.  Your liquor tastes need refinement…Call me later, please.”  The geologist nodded.  Evie meandered to Cullen, holding up the empty wine bottle.  “More?”

Cullen smirked, his hair puffy and curly from his constant tosses.  “Yeah, I’ll take you up on that whiskey now.  Anyone else joining us?”

Nate shook his head once.  “Nah.  I know a new archery target not riddle with holes yet.”  The Pox’s knew that as his way of processing everything alone and without blowing his top.  He stepped towards Cassandra and kissed her temple.  “See you at home soon.”  Cassandra leaned into his slight hug.

“I guess I’m going home…”  Astrid held herself close, pattering towards the exit.  Her eyes locked on Alistair for a single moment.  Her thoughts spoke to him.  _I need you_.

“Since you’re telling the Nightengale, Seeker, I guess I’m heading home too.  I don’t think I can handle another World Cup at the townhouse.”  Alistair declared to his friends, following the physician out.

“Missing the party, Ali.”  Evie hiccupped.

“More like ditching me to hold up your hair vomiting when that red wine migraine kicks in.”  Cullen scowled at his roommate.

“That too.”  The sheriff called, racing for the freight elevator passed Astrid.  His hazel blue orbs met hers again to respond.  _Your house this time_.

Astrid mouthed thank you in a way none of their friends could not see.  After all, they were still visible to the others.  The physician kept telling herself just a small drive home, just maybe a half an hour before she could pour out her soul and feelings.  Alistair will be there with her, holding her as she watches the axe hit that locked door repeatedly.  How many swings will it take for it fly apart?  How many strikes of this nightmare will it take to destroy everything she has mended back together over the years?

How many whacks will it take to break the Pox’s again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I need some help with Rylen’s surname. I am unsure if the fandom as a determined surname for this amazing knight. I chose MacKenzie because in Gaelic it means “handsome.” I thought it fit him well, but if you have a suggestion or a fandom-specific name, please let me know. Thanks! :)
> 
> So the body could/is be Revka Amell. Like I said at the beginning, I had been thinking about this novel for years. When I was reading about Amell Family's history, I saw all the required pieces for this novel fall into a place. Revka Amell disappeared after Human Mage Warden was sent to the Circle. Her husband took the other children and moved, but it is suggested that the other children were mages and sent to Circles too. The canon never states what happened to Revka or her other children, especially during the Mage-Templar War. I loved this concept, but I had to change the children order to fit my narrative, thus why Maya is not the oldest, but the fourth child of five.
> 
> Anyone shocked about Revka?


	14. Sticks and Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "My December" by Linkin Park (Go to Spotify and follow the special playlist for MYBF. Search "Marry Your Best Friend" and see thejeeperswife as the creator!)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Implication of alcoholism and heavy drinking, untreated major depression, bullying, and violence
> 
> ANGST EVERYWHERE!
> 
> Slight NSFWish
> 
> Did you know I have a [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thejeeperswife)? Follow and get up to date information on MYBF and funny Dragon Age postings!

The main roads were treacherous that day.  The weather newscaster stated a blizzard was blowing over the Frostbacks and will pour a least a foot of snow all over Haven by tomorrow.  That winter already demonstrated it would be one of the worst in recorded history.  Evie would not deny that in a second.  The Free Marcher still could not get used to the cold even after living in Ferelden for thirteen years.  She might have attended high school maybe ten days out of the month of Wintermarch, a blessing in some ways especially for the current complications.  However, the conditions also meant her parents, specifically her mother, did not fly back from Ostwick in time for the service.  Of all the people Evie wanted beside her that cold and dreary Guardian morning, it was her mother.  Very few people could contain her temper and wild emotions like Gwen Trevelyan.  Maker’s arse, she just wanted her mother to hold her and rock her while she screamed in great sorrow.

“You want to talk about it?”

Evie’s brown eyes flashed from staring out of the passage seat window to the driver.  Her brother, Rian, swept his eyes at her before returning them to the snow covered road.  He looked good in his pressed grey wool three-piece suit.  His feathery wisped hair was styled out of his face.  His grey swirling eyes glistened from the bright sunlight shining off the crystal white snow.  His olive skin was tanned more than his siblings—technically cousins—since he spent most of the last year in Ostwick overseeing the family’s main mining company once their grandfather’s Alzheimer’s disease made it impossible for him to continue as CEO.  One reason her parents were not with her now was because their grandfather was being transferred to in-home care and hospice.  They did not expect him to live that much longer.

Thank the Maker for prescription sunglasses.  Evie twirled her head away quickly to gaze at the covered mountains and hills leading to the old Chantry built during the Dragon Age.  Rian suggested she did not wear her fierce bright green ‘rift’ contacts to the service.  _People need to see you’re hurting, Evelyn,_ he remarked while they were getting ready.  What he was truly asking was leave her distain and anger at home.  Her bright green contacts gave her an air that nothing could break her when actually her soul died long ago.  She knew she hid the truth behind the false-color prescription lens.  Alas, she relented, but only irked him by wearing sunglasses instead.  She complained the snow blinded her.  The world blinded her.  Anger and regret blinded her.

“No.”  She huffed against the frosted passenger door glass.  Bare deciduous trees zoomed past as Rian drove the Land Rover down the country road.  Thankfully, the arling salted the asphalt and laid gravel so it was easy to grip on the icy and snowy roads.  Too bad they did not do it two days ago-

“-You’ve barely said anything.  Your mother and father are worried.”  Her brother pressed, referencing to his aunt and uncle.  He let go of the gear shift and touched her shoulder, squeezing twice.  “I know something happened between all of you.  I’m sorry I haven’t been here to support you, guide you.”

“There’s nothing to say.”  She sighed deeply.  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut to block out the screaming and crying from the last time any of them spoke.  “It’s all over.  The Pox’s are no more.”

“They’ll be there, you know.”  Rian informed her, returning his hand to the gear shift to downshift around a turn.  “Is it the first time you’ve seen them since the fight?”

Evie did not want to talk about this right now or ever.  Of course the other former Pox’s would be there.  Yes, she had seen them hundreds of times either around town or in Haven High School’s hallways.  Yet, she made an effort to avoid them.  She prayed maybe with her out of the picture, they could move on together.  They needed to shake off the blighted skin—her—to survive this, especially now.

“How about you worry about your wife, Ri.”  Evie snapped, slamming her fist down on the center console.  Her brother threw her a surprise look before it turned into a frown.  “Oh, that’s right.  You never wanted to get married.  Good ole Trevelyan traditions of arranged marriages.  Patricia could not get engaged until the future head of the family was married.  So, how is Josephine?  Everything you ever wanted?!”

Evie knew she was being unfair.  She knew that neither person loved each other when they met last year in Ostwick.  Family rumor stated the Antivan native was in love with another woman, an Orlesian, while Rian had not found his own soulmate, more concerned about battling the legal system to arrest and imprison his parents’ murderers.  However, since both Josephine and Rian were part of the old Thedosian nobility, they knew their roles as heads of their families.  Arranged marriages were common for those positions, though archaic in this modern age.  When Patricia found a husband in Orlais, she pressed the Trevelyan extended family she wanted to get married, but Rian held up _her_ pompous life.  Josephine and Rian agreed to Great-Aunt Lucille’s match and were married last summer in Antiva.  They played their roles well, but looked defeated. 

Evie actually liked Josephine.  She navigated and handled Trevelyan politics well.  Her diplomatic and business sense could benefit the family’s mining company immensely.  Still, Evie was against the marriage.  No one should marry for the sake of old Chantry aristocratic traditions.  Her prejudice against the event barred her from attending, a further defeat for her eldest brother who needed her more than ever that day.

And everyone wonders why Evie hates organized religion.

“That’s uncalled for, Evie.”

Evie froze, her mouth gapping hearing the squeaking changing voice behind her.  She turned at the waist slightly, her eyes focusing through her twisting auburn waves at the pair of brown eyes boring into her dark soul.  Esme crossed his arms over his dress suit, grimacing at her harsh words.  The thirteen year old was typically quiet and observed everything, only speaking to people who he trusted.  When conflicts occurred, the autistic adolescent snuck away and hid until the hollering stopped.  Yet, he put his foot down and glared at his sister now.

Esme was the only Trevelyan who called her ‘Evie.’  He was the only person in the world as kin who treated her like a person, her own mind, heart, and soul.  “You’re right, Ezzy.”  Evie’s face shifted to Rian.  “Rian, I apologize.  Thank you for being here today…both of you.”

Rian’s hurt still shimmered in his eyes, but he briefly smiled.  “I know this is difficult for you.  We are here for you.  Please know that.”

Evie nodded, noticing Rian pulling into the Chantry parking lot.  There were dozens of vehicles.  Everyone loitered outside or meandered inside dressed in black.  Her heart thumped quickly and hard in her chest as her brother found a parking space on the far end.

Maker, this was happening.

It was real.

Maya was dead.

The attending Trevelyans arrived late so they were forced to stand in the dark corner at the back of the Chantry, a position Evie did not mind in the slightest.  After all, the circumstances were partly her fault.  Instead of listening to the Chantry mother singing the typical funeral Chant of Light excerpts, Evie used her camouflaged gaze to study everyone gathered in the nave.  Her stare found the Rutherfords immediately, about four pews behind the Amell clan.  They filled the bench completely, gracing the crowded space with a line of beautiful blonde tight curls.  Cullen sat between Mia and Branson, his baritone voice singing along with the Chantry mother.  His amber stare looked dead, decayed.

Alistair and his mother, Fiona, sat directly behind the Rutherfords.  Fiona grasped her son’s hand, running her thumb over his white knuckles while he hung his head.  For the first time in years, his strawberry hair was unkempt and laid flat against his skull, a reflection of his current mood.  His free hand would reach for Cullen’s shoulder ever so often, causing the Rutherford senior to throw him a pursed nod before returning to singing.

High school gossip rumored that the two former friends rumbled in the Rutherford barn last month, getting covered in feces, oats, and blood after throwing a dozen or so punches.  Evie remembered seeing their battered faces, bruised and cut up, but they were laughing, tossing insults and jokes back and forth.  At least they had each other now, especially Cullen.  Maya and he might have broken up, but he still cared about her.

Good fucking job, Evie.

Alistair’s hazel blue eyes glanced up when Astrid stood from her seat beside the Amells.  Good ole Astrid.  The young woman never gave up on the Pox’s, despite siding with Maya over the whole fiasco.  Evie’s once friend stated she believed she and Cullen, but Maya needed her to get over the break up, the inevitable truth that the meek teenage ignored at the time.  If that was true, how could see speak so hurtfully towards Evie during the great fight?  How could see stand stolid and remark about Evie’s actions over the years?  She had no soul during the whole thing.  Yes, Astrid can keep her temper under control, unlike Evie, but she _never_ displayed her emotions.  Maya might have hid her emotions but at least she _showed_ something.  Astrid was a fucking robot sometimes, thus why Evie threw it in her face during the brawl.  The Cousland daughter never batted a moon grey eye.

Alas, Astrid kept in touch with Maya when she started to become elusive.  Astrid attempted encouraging her to focus back on her studies, but Maya ignored her.  The Amell daughter preferred to drink and party with the delinquents.  Franklin Amell kept repeating “she is a lost soul…lost to the Maker forever.” 

Because Astrid kept trying, she was asked to give the eulogy.  Once again, the Cousland’s face was blank and emotionless, although redness and puffiness outlined her dark bruised eyes.  She wore no makeup, probably fearing it would smear when she did cry.  Her speech was clear and eloquent.  Evie expected nothing else from her.  Astrid was everything Evie could not be, thus why they were once great friends.  Evie barely heard what she spoke, more focused on Astrid’s strengths that made Evie nothing.  She was a leader.  Evie barely could handle her own life.  Astrid was smart, cunning, and diplomatic.  The Trevelyan snapped and lost her temper in one breath.  Now, Evie was alone without Astrid’s balance.  She deserved to be alone really.  Evie was a disappointment to her family, friends, and herself.

Nate did not come into view until the congregation stepped outside for the pyre burning.  The sneaky archery team captain wandered the perimeter, close enough to hear Mother Giselle, but far enough away that no one recognized him.  His eyes scanned the crowd, pinpointing Alistair, Astrid, and Cullen.  His gaze fell on Evie standing in the middle of the congregation around the pyre stand.  His glare screamed his thoughts and feeling at her, a dagger stabbing her repeatedly with each slow teary blink.  Esme stepped forward and covered Evie, seeing the hideous grimace from across the way.  Her little brother’s gloved hand encircled hers and squeezed a few times, a form of comfort.

Evie did not deserve her brother’s protection.  Nate never believed _her_.  The archery captain said Cullen did nothing wrong during the fight, but knew Evie bewitched him with one of her traitorous plans.  He accused she treated Cullen and Maya’s relationship like one of her childhood pranks, but for a darker purpose.  Evie knew at first that was false, but after hearing more people say it, she started guessing her own sanity.  Rian would call it ‘gas lighting’, a tactic the Trevelyans had used on Evie in the past to make her look crazy and need institutionalized. 

Evie would never intentionally tamper a relationship.

_“She had the gall to come.”_

_“First she ruins a beautiful love, and then kills that poor innocent girl.”_

_“She is nothing like Patricia.  No wonder the Trevelyans call her the black sheep.”_

_“Slut.”_

_“Harlot.”_

_“Killer.”_

Evie squeezed her teary eyes closed, swaying on her dress boots in the snow.  She mentally repeated she was just trying to be a good friend.  She was not being malicious.  She told the truth.  Evie only wanted to help her friends.

 _“One day, your honesty and bluntness will harm instead of heal, Evelyn.”_ Maya told her once long ago.  _“You mean well, but will everyone see it as that…?”_

This is all Evie’s fault.

It should be her laying on that pyre, not Maya.

Evie’s glossy brown eyes flashed opened as Mother Giselle lit the torch and handed it to Dr. Franklin Amell, a religious studies professor at Skyhold College.  He was a tall strict man in his early fifties.  He ran his family with an iron fist, resulting in the Pox’s sneaking Maya out constantly.  If the Pox’s relationship relied on Evie specifically, it would have ended in first grade.  The Amells hated Evie and, once long ago, Evie did not care.  Franklin Amell called her a pagan and demon for her behavior and beliefs.  He believed she was witch who allowed demons from the Fade to possess her and used blood magic, whatever that meant.  Luckily, at the time, Maya did not believe that about her.  _You are just misunderstood, Evelyn.  Smile and be well._

It was the first time the Trevelyan teen had looked at the Amell Family.  Evie was too disgusted by her actions to even glimpse at the loving family before then.  Rebecca held her mother closely, looking beautiful in her nun habit and Chantry robes.  She was a full-declared sister focused on healing and aiding the sick and poor for years, rarely living her nunnery.  The eldest daughter bit her hand, containing her own screaming. 

The brothers continued the long familial line in front of the pyre.  Hector stood to his sister’s left, his stare hollow and lost.  He always did have a strange expression the few times Evie met him.  He reminded Evie of Esme in some ways, but he refused to interact with his family like he feared they would give him a disease.  To Hector’s left was Micah, only fifteen years old.  He always looked sickly and weak, the result of being born while his mother neared menopause.  He kept using his dress shirt and coat sleeve to wipe away his tears and snot.  Maya and Micah were close in age and kindred spirits.  Many Pox’s pranks were to protect him from bullies throughout the years.  In turn, he looked out of Esme Trevelyan and Rosalie Rutherford.  The Pox’s knew the youngest Rutherford and Amell cared for one another, just too afraid to say anything.  They reflected their older siblings back when before Cullen and Maya began dating.

Lastly, Abraham.  The man was huge and tall, nothing but muscle.  He towered over the family, wearing a uniform Evie had never seen.  Maya spoke once he attended an all-male boarding school back in the day, but was it military based?  Was he a soldier or something based on his stance and alert gaze?  That would not make sense since the Amells were very conservative and pacifists.  Maya cried for days once when Cullen hit a squirrel with his father’s truck.  Maya never spoke about the eldest child, always growing meek and quiet when someone said his name.

It was right then that Revka Amell turned her head away from her eldest daughter’s shoulder.  The pyre had been lit, burning brightly behind the grieving mother.  Of all the faces the mourning woman could have looked at, her gaze shifted to Evie’s.  That glare burned much like her daughter’s body behind her.  _“It should be you!“_

 

* * *

 

Evie flew forward, gasping and crowing as the emotional waves of anguish encompassed her body and soul.  Sweat dripped from her brow and hair.  Her soaked tank top stuck to her breasts and defined dancer abs.  Her salt-burning eyes flew around the room to look at anything but Revka Amell’s accusing disgust.

The geologist’s nose first alerted her she was no longer dreaming; her third floor loft bedroom filled with the soothing scents of lavender and sage that calmed her aching heart.  Immediately, her hand grabbed the potpourri on the night stand and threw it across the room.  Glass busted against the old slate and brick fireplace mantle built into the opposite wall.  Bits of dry leaves and flower blooms fluttered like confetti all over the hardwood and carpeted floors. 

Regret filled the rattled woman right then.  She crossed her arms and tightly hugged her shaking body, rocking back and forth.  Her damp sheets rolled off her arms and legs to the side while she roared with sobs.  Evie’s long nails clawed at her exposed shoulders and biceps, nearly ripping her tank top strap.  The raw emotions erupted out of their confided spaces in her heart and soul mimicking a soda bottle shaken to the point the cap flew and carbonated liquid spewed everywhere.  It took several minutes to shove down the feelings her buried secrets had matured over the years.  She typically kept them so well disguised with sassiness and stubbornness.

Evie will replace the potpourri with an _appropriate_ scent.  It cannot be _his_ aroma anymore.  That nightmare reminded her that she must uphold reality and no longer daydream about the impossible.  She cannot give hope to something forever barred to cherish and love.

“Drink.  I need a drink.”  The woman declared, throwing herself off the king size bed towards her other nightstand. 

The woman’s shaking hand batted her anti-depressants aside for the tequila bottle she left in the cabinet the night before.  Those damn prescription drugs did not help anyways.  Psychologists, therapists, and psychiatrists scheduled different Cognitive Behavior Therapies and upped her prescription doses three times already.  They switched between different types of drugs to hopefully alleviate symptoms.  Still, there was no change in her major depression disorder.  It festered like an open infected wound on her heart, mind, and soul until one day it will eat her completely.  There was no end-all cure.

So, Evie relied on the only other thing that kept those thoughts away.  “Drink.  Drink.  Drink…”

The Free Marcher’s hand finally grasped the tequila bottle, furiously ripping the stopper off the top.  She lifted the thick glass container of gold tequila to her lips and-

-Empty.

“Fuck…”  Evie whimpered, flinging the empty liquor bottle onto her favorite rug.  It thumped a few times before resting on its side. 

Secondary options rolled around in her mind.  Therapy taught her to have a ‘tool box’ of options during such situations, although they never effectively handle her problems like alcohol.  A hot shower will wash away the sweat and tears before she ventured downstairs.  If she beat feet to her jeep, maybe she could avoid her new roommate before he saw her, if he was still home.  Merrill’s apothecary opened at 10:00.  The Dalish woman always gave her a good deal on medical-grade elfroot joints and salves.  Smoking a joint so early in the morning was not wise, but it would not be the first time.  Her nerves and soul could not last without it.  Thank the Maker Evie did not work today or she might burn down Skyhold University or Trevelyan Mining Corporation in a blinding rage.  The Singing Maiden opened at noon, while the liquor mart soon followed an hour later.  Evie will just have to buy two bottles of tequila instead of her usual one.  After all, the nightmares doubled their efforts since discovering that skeleton was Revka Amell.

“Shower.  Shower.  _Shower!_ ”  Evie bolted from her bed up a short flight of stairs to her open bathroom.  She cannot think about this.  She cannot reflect she found that woman’s body.

The townhouse’s third floor could be an apartment itself.  Fergus’ construction company opened the room by removing the attic.  Every time Evie glanced up, she could gaze and smile at the brick walls and old wooden cross beams.  By removing the attic, the bathroom could be placed on a tall dais over the rest of the bedroom.  Steel industrial railing only divided the spaces.  Because of the differing height, someone standing in the bedroom could not see a nude person showering above.

Evie flipped off her damp tank top over her bed-tossed hair and kicked off her bikini cut underwear.  She stepped into her blue tile large standing shower with glass walls.  With a flick of the facet, she looked up so the rain showerhead sprinkled steaming hot water over her puffy face and slowly wetted her matted salty hair.  The woman ignored the cold water facet, needing to feel the scolding burning liquid against her redden olive skin.  She loved that showerhead, but sometimes it just stopped working.  Repairmen already replaced it and the piping twice.  There have been several times where Evie was in the middle of a shower, it stopped working, and she had to run to the second floor bathroom to rinse conditioner out of her hair.  She should warn Cullen about a random naked woman running by his room-

-Or she could not and give him a happy surprise.

Evie squeezed her brown eyes closed and smacked the tiles with her open palm repeatedly.  Wet slamming thuds echoed in the space, giving her very different erotic thoughts.  She was limber enough to allow her man to choose any angle in the shower stall.  No.  _No._   She needed to drown these thoughts.  She should never have them, so she openly chanted, “Drink.  _Drink._   _Drink_!”

Regret and shame overflowed her senses, tears streaming down her high cheekbones and chin instantly the longer those forbidden feelings bubbled below her skin.  Her groin ached for attention as the emotions heralded her true desires.  Her shaking left hand followed her slick naturally curvy body to her folds, just barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves begging for attention.  As soon as Evie flick the nub, she slapped her hand away, screaming in both disgust and yearning.  She will not think of these feelings to find release.  So, the woman accepted the throbbing and anguish expanding across her chest and abdomen.

Evie thought she could handle him living here.  She wanted to protect and care for him until his withdrawal waned, maybe even longer.  Yet, with Revka Amell found murdered…

Evie leaned against the shower stall, rocking again to the point she slid down and sat by the drain.  Her warring emotions fought like two cyclones over a raging sea.  They pulled and pushed her in so many directions.  All the thoughts were dark and dreadful.  She wanted to prove to her mind, body, and soul she could control them.  When she moved back, Evie never imaged she would have to fight them all at once so soon.  It was like the past just waited those eleven years for her to return, resuming where everything left off.

A dark cubed object on the bathroom vanity pulled the struggling woman’s eyes open and upward.  Without her contacts, she could not see far, but she knew what it was.  That dark mahogany wooden case with the craved Trevelyan crest will always call to her.  The long rectangular box sang like the lyrium it once contained.  When her grandfather willed it to her, he did not know her intentions.  Would he have approved?  Maybe.  After all, it held his lyrium steroid supply for fifty years, a drug to forget his own pain and torment.  It was because of that box Evie wanted to study lyrium.  She wanted to know why she could interact with the mineral, while it slowly decayed her grandfather’s mind into mush.  It was only after his death Evie learned he had been a templar researcher and made the Trevelyans extremely wealthy trading the mystic blue mineral.  His own father exposed him to the steroid when he was sixteen, an addictive family tradition.  It was then Evie realized what path she encouraged Cullen to take.

Regret.  Shame.  Darkness.

“ _Drink.  Drink.  Drink._ ”

 

* * *

 

Evie skipped down the last set of stairs to the ground floor in cotton yoga pants and a long tank top under a stretched neck sweat shirt.  It was mid to late morning, expecting the townhouse to hold no other life now.  The woman power walked towards the kitchen like the hardwood floor was lava.  Her eyes remained fixated on the trash bin, her shaky hand gripping the empty tequila bottle like it contained her soul.  The other held her special wooden box.  Slamming the puzzle box on the kitchen island, she chucked the empty glass bottle towards the full trashcan.  It landed perfectly in the middle, only disrupting the plastic liner a little and never touching the sides.

The geologist smirked, pulling her Ostwick State sweat shirt down before pivoting towards the front door.  As one foot slid into a sandal, she sang, “Swoosh-“

“-Is that the same bottle of tequila we bought last week, or is that a new one, Eve?”

Evie froze right as her hand stretched to collect her oversized purse.  She was so focused on her routine to not realize Cullen stood in the kitchen, watching her every move.  How was he still at home?  He should have left hours ago.  Her green contact eyes glanced at anything but him, hearing the disappointment in his baritone voice.  Within her limited view, Evie could see his amber eyes shift from the old wooden box then to her.  “Does it matter?”  The geologist cooed, chin down so her blow-dried amber waves covered her flushed cheeks.  She knew her eyes were bruised from excessive crying.

“Yes, it does.”  Cullen replied.  He moved a little around the island towards her, reaching for her arm.  A waft of his natural musk and herbal cologne filled her sensitive nose like an alluring call.

_Drink.  Drink.  Drink._

Evie stepped away, inching herself towards the front door.  Her escape was so close, but Cullen quickly narrowed the distance between them.  He wore sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt that accent all his pectoral muscles and harden abs.  Was his day off changed? 

Instantly, Evie’s brain replayed the image of his majestic body the night he was ill in her mind’s eye like a sick joke.  His buff arm and callused hand stretched out to her like he invited her to waltz like an enchanted knight.  That was all Evie’s watery sight could distinguish through her twisting curls.  She imagined his angled jaw and dashing smirk looming over her shaking body, bringing the much needed care she craved rather than diving into a bottle.  His honey warm eyes invited her close to comfort her after a night of rough sleep, a protective guard against her buried self.

No, Evie could not imagine such a scene.  The man was more likely worried and disappointed in her behavior.   Besides, he did not dance.  He never could.  He could hug her, but not what she needed and desired.  She inched herself away and huffed once when her behind hit the couch back.

Cullen stopped his pursuit, finally realizing she did not want to speak to him.  He lowered his hand from her vision.  “I’m just worried about you.  I just realized you actually drink a lot.  I never really noticed until taking out all the recycling.”

Evie was not like Astrid, who could mask her emotions like flicking on a light.  The geologist only knew two true expressions that masked her feelings:  sassiness and anger.  She was too upset and jumpy to properly back talk, so Evie chose her only other option.  She snapped her head up, flinging her hair over her shoulder.  Her green eyes burned into Cullen’s whiskey eyes.  “So what!  Last time I checked, you aren’t my mother, Rutherford!”

The ex-templar stepped back a few feet, surprised by her biting tongue.  She was right.  There was no warmth staring back at her, only disgust and horror.  Just like Revka Amell that fateful day, all Evie’s fault. 

“If this is going to work, you have to respect my privacy just as I gave you the same.  Give me that same common courtesy, okay!?”  Evie shoved him away and stomped her foot.  She took the opportunity to reach for the front door knob.  Out of nowhere, Surana barked and jumped over the couch.  The grey and white hound growled at the woman, ready to rip out Evie’s throat.  Maybe the woman should let the mabari put her out of her misery.

Cullen frowned, his scarred upper lip twitching a few times.  “You’ve done nothing _but_ drink since Cass told us the skeleton could be Revka Amell last week.  Something else bugging you about the case?”

Cullen had no clue how much that was a loaded question.  Evie just stared at him, the words tickling the edge of her tongue to holler and scream everything she held inside.  Somehow, her filter remained in place around her larynx so she did not speak what her heart, brain, and soul kept secure for a lifetime.

“Isn’t figuring out a woman was murdered enough?  Isn’t it disturbing enough to find out your friend’s mother was left rotting down a hole for eleven years?!  Anyways, I always speak my mind.”  Evie lied, knowing he will believe it because she always did say everything pertinent to current events.  Her personal feelings did not matter after all.  Even when she verbalized them, people did not believe her.  They just snubbed their noses and accepted all the rumors her enemies spat.  Maker forbid someone give more than a rat’s ass about the bitchy rich girl who never did as she was told.  “And if you excuse me, I have to run some errands.”  She flipped her roommate the bird, grabbed her purse, slipped on her other sandal, and dashed out the door before Cullen could respond.

_Drink!  DRINK!  Need to drink it all away!_

* * *

 

Merrill Sabrae was a strange elf, but scary as fuck.  Despite having natural jet black hair, Evie will always believe she was a hidden blonde.  The former Dalish First was clueless on life matters and common sense, but could fillet you with a butter knife while whistling a happy children’s song.  Her voice was sickly sweet as she explained how she extracted druffalo intestines and boiled halla leather for a new potions.  Evie learned long ago to just twirl her amber pendant while she waited for her elfroot order, check her cellphone screen ticking towards 12:00, and never make direct eye contact.

Ever since a surgery a few years ago, Evie needed elfroot for abdominal pain, specifically around her menstrual cycle.  When Cassandra and Dorian told the Pox’s who they believed the skeleton was, Evie came home with a liter of tequila and discovered she started her period.  Her monthly bleeding was just icing on an already shitty cake of a day.  Evie’s cycles could be a day long or over two weeks of heavy blood.  The latter was her current situation, making that morning’s shower mimic an Alfred Hitchcock movie.  It took two pads and a tampon to contain the excessive bleeding so she could leave her bedroom.  Add the fact she was out of booze, and Cullen should be relieved Evie did not castrate him when she left.

She should have not been so mean, the geologist thought, ignoring Merrill’s rambling while dashing behind her apothecary counter.  However, Evie could never tell Cullen about her nightmares, the truths that none of her friends knew about.  They will never know.  It was her shame and regret to bear for the rest of her miserable life.

“…Then Mrs. Gilmore said her friend had been found dead and murdered!  Evie, someone was murdered in Haven!”  Merrill exclaimed, tying up Evie’s cloth bag of dried medical elfroot.  “Can you believe that!?” 

“Oh the horror…”  Evie sassed, not really paying attention.  Her alcohol mantra screamed in her mind the longer she was without a tequila shot.

“I never thought it could happen here.  She said her name was Reba…or Rika…or Reva or something like that.  She just kept crying like she found her with her heart ripped out and head decapitated.  I wonder if Haven is like Kirkwall where people practiced blood magic.

Evie’s head flung upward, mouth gapping at the First’s statements.  “Wait, what?  Who told her Revka was murdered?”  Cassandra kept that sensitive information secret since that day last week.  It should have not surprised her Haven’s residents found out before DNA confirmed the seeker’s suspicions.

Merrill tapped her chin, thinking.  Her index fingers followed her vallashin.  “Varric.  It was like that game.  Telephone, I think you shems call it.  Varric said he had a very reliable source.  A close friend who just arrived.  The barkeep already has his wild theories on what happened.  An old murder in a small town!  It is like something out of one of his novels.  It’s so exciting!  I can’t wait to read it!  He’s even including this group called the Boils?  Sounds like some weird gang I met in Kirkwall during the Blight.  I wonder if he means the Blight.  I don’t know exactly.”

Evie could not breathe.  If Varric knew about the case, then it will not take the town long to find out.  Since Revka is Maya’s mother, the town will connect the dots and look at the Pox’s.  They will gawk at the band of friends, eying them like they had all the answers.  It will be just like Maya’s funeral-

- _DRINK!_

The geologist grabbed her bag of elfroot and tossed two coin twenty sovereigns on the counter.  She did not wave goodbye back at the chirper shopkeeper, using her outstretched arms to shove the old door open.  The doorbell rang above the geologist’s head as Evie stumbled outside and down the front stairs.  She weaved on her feet and nearly tripped on the curb.  Evie glanced around, eying everyone wandering the main street that autumn day. 

Evie clutched her elfroot bag to her chest, patting.  Suddenly, her skin burned as she felt hundreds of eyes glaring at her.  Even if Haven’s residents were not specifically studying her, she could hear the whispers they told their friends.  _Harlot.  Slut.  It’s all her fault.  It should have been you down the hole!  It should have been Evelyn Trevelyan dead in that car that winter night!_

The shaking woman covered her ears as townsfolks bummed her shoulders.  She heard their laughing and felt them poking her in disgust.  Evie quickly ran down the main street and around the corner, not caring who was in her way or if she lost a sandal.  Her body carried her towards the Singing Maiden like she had done so many times since she returned to the small hamlet.  Evie did not care if she pushed tourists out of the way or ran in front of zooming vehicles.  Tequila called her.  Tequila, liquor, beer, anything fermented dulled the voices and insults echoing around her mind and heart.  No drug or advice drove those accusations away like man’s first scientific experiment of barreled food.  The town knew who Evie found down that hole, and they accused her of murder again like the night Maya died.  The wrong girl died.  The Maker meant to send Evie to the Void.

It was happening all over again.

Evie shoved the pub’s double doors open and faltered up to the bar.  She slammed her wallet on the varnished surface and hollered into Varric’s face.  “Tequila.  _Now!_ ”

Varric blinked, slowly turning around to reach for Evie’s favorite.  “Damn, Monkey.  You look like shit.”

“Keep me away from my drink, and I will beat you into a pile of feces, dwarf!”  Evie hollered, while panting and swaying.  “Make it a triple!”

Varric nodded and reached for the appropriate shot glass.  With a turn he set down the glass and filled it with golden tequila goodness.  Evie shot the drink back immediately, some of the fermented agave nectar running down her quivering chin.  She waved for another triple shot while swallowing the first.  It worked instantly to burn away the thoughts and emotions.

_Numbness.  Thank the Maker._

“I bet you still can’t outdrink me.”

Evie froze with the shot glass in hand, outstretched for Varric to refill.  She began shaking, glancing up at Varric who smirked at her like he knew what was about to happen.  It was right then everything from the last ten minutes made since.

All the alcohol in the arling could not extinguish the conflagration brewing in the woman’s soul.

The geologist smashed the shot glass on the floor, twirled towards the bass grunting voice that spoke beside her and eyed its owner.  “Fuck the Maker, the unholy prick!  Of all the fucking _twats_ to cross my path today!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who spoke to Evie? Who linked about the murder? Hmm?


	15. Next of Kin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele
> 
> Trigger Warning: Mentions of Alcoholism, Domestic Abuse, Cults, and Relationship Cheating
> 
> This chapter is LONG! Enjoy! :)

Cullen arrived at The Blue Nug rattled and unfocused.  Evie’s sharp tongue and piercing rhetoric echoed in his mind as he slammed his truck door close.  His hollow gaze caught Astrid’s attention typing on her cellphone.  Cullen did not look at the physician directly, more through her.  He stumbled forward, waving once at the server smiling at him.  “Coffee.  Black.”  He mumbled, catching his best friend’s attention.

Astrid noticed his troubled state immediately, setting down her cellphone on the outdoor table.  Her moon grey eyes scanned the ex-templar.  Cullen recognized the doctor’s stern analysis, studying his wellbeing.  Her lip would curl just a little before making her conclusion.

“Something is bothering you.”  Astrid observed, leaning back in her seat.  Her cellphone rattled on the metal table, but she ignored the incoming flood of text messages binging and rattling the cellphone along the table like a turtle.

Cullen flung himself in the other available chair, taking a drink of free water while waiting for his black coffee.  He exhaled and rubbed his neck.  The former soldier wondered if he truly had invaded Evie’s privacy by asking about her drinking habits earlier.  Should he allow her to privately govern her life or was this a problem that needed intervention?  If anyone could determine which it would be, it was the Pox’s mother hen.

“I think Evie has a drinking problem…”  Cullen admitted, already hating himself for speaking about the woman’s personal habits.  “She drinks a lot of tequila…not like a freshman sorority girl at a wet t-shirt contest.  More like an illegal Antivan blue-collar worker trying to evade Tevinter border patrol and trying to forget his woes.”

Astrid pulled some black hair behind her ear.  She allowed her long black strains to sway in the mid-morning weather before her profession forced it back into a strangling bun.  Her scrubs were fresh and clean, waiting for another twelve hour hospital shift.  Their Tuesday Brunch dates had become common practice since he moved back to Haven.  Cullen and she would meet and talk about his health and current events before she worked the evening shift and he went to the courthouse to oversee deskwork.

“We’re all under a lot of stress lately.  All of us handle it differently.”  Astrid explained, leaning her cheek on her hand.  Her eyes danced between her buzzing cellphone and her half-eaten whole wheat bagel presented on a generic cream plate.  “Alistair makes terrible puns until someone yells.  Nate unloads quivers of arrows and rifle clips into hay bales.  You bury yourself in work like me.  Evie’s solution is to drink until she can solve the problem somehow.”

Cullen knew that was Evie’s way.  Any time the geologist suffered from a personal problem, she drank until she got an idea on how to resolve it.  It was a new development since high school.  Before, Evie would throw a hissy fit or start an argument until she calmed down and resolved the issue.  After Maya’s death, Evie drank away problems until they either went away or she put her foot down and unraveled them personally.  If they were other’s problems, she would do everything to resolve them without taking a tequila shot.  It was only her personal issues that rushed her to drink.  The more she consumed, the more troublesome the issue.

From Astrid’s statement, Evie’s personal dilemma dealt with finding Revka Amell’s dead body and determining that she was murdered.  Unlike the rest of the Pox’s, Evie escaped death and destruction throughout the last ten years.  Astrid dealt with life-threatening emergencies every day as an ER doctor.  Cullen knew not to ask her about her medical experiences during the Blight.  Alistair witnessed what humans were capable of as a police officer and a National Guard.  Nate experienced threatening situations and was forced to dispose and dig massive graves for the plagued dead during the Blight.  Cullen was a soldier and personally observed his platoon slowly die while prisoners of war.  Later, the ex-templar witnessed horrific circumstances during the Qunari Invasion and Kirkwall riots.  For a time, he took life constantly, believing it was the right thing to do.  Evie’s employment exposed her to the dead, but most bodies were of people she did not know and had passed away ages ago.  Anyone would be troubled finding a childhood friend’s mother murdered and forgotten in a cave.

Yet, Cullen felt that was not the only reason why Evie drank at every opportunity.  “I’m pretty sure she drank two full bottles of tequila in a week, Astrid.  I tossed one out with the recycling last Friday, and she finished another just this morning.”  Cullen admitted, once again feeling terrible about breaking Evie’s confidence.  However, Cullen was a recovering drug addict and knew the symptoms of an addiction well.  That morning, his friend was shaking, avoiding eye contact, and refused to give him a straight answer.  She had obviously been crying and not sleeping.  Her tunnel vision demonstrated she was racing out the door to avoid his questioning and to obtain another drink.  “Has she said anything to you?”

Astrid shook her head no.  “No, if anything, she has withdrawn herself since determining Revka was murdered, _if_ it is even her.”

Cullen exhaled, pinching his nose.  Evie might have avoided talking about the case, but at least the geologist could rationally see that the skeleton was most likely Revka Amell.  Cullen reviewed Micah’s missing person report and understood why Cassandra believed it was Revka Amell.  There was no other person reported missing in age, sex, and nationality that it could be and fit the evidence and established time table.  As a geologist and archaeologist, Evie would understand the signs pointing to Revka too.

On the other hand, Astrid made sure to deny or question the likelihood at every turn.  Just like now, she crossed her arms over her chest and glanced away.  She wore her emotionless face, but her eyes cracked and displayed her warring soul every so often.  The only reason why Cullen could tell was from decades of friendship and understanding.  Even then, Cullen questioned his skills to read Astrid.  The doctor kept her thoughts behind an impermeable wall that not even C4 could blow open.

“Cass contacted me this morning.  She located the next of kin.  After discovering no viable DNA at the Amell House, she directed all focus on locating a blood relative.  Revka still had family in Kirkwall, where she was born.  I had no idea she was even from there.  It matches Dorian’s observation that the skeleton was of Free Marcher descent.”  Astrid winced at the correlation.  Maybe Cullen could make his friend see the light instead of denying to everyone and herself.  “The person should be arriving soon.” 

The announcement brought Astrid’s grey eyes back to him.  Just briefly, Cullen could see dread appear before she affixed her mute face again.  “Are they still searching the residence?”

Cullen shook his head.  “The Chargers and Cass didn’t find anything.  Rylen mentioned by phone he might return to get familiar with the location, but he won’t be for another week.  He is testifying at another trial before coming here.  The place, the farm…the house was falling apart.  Nothing was left.  If the Amells left anything behind, looters and time pillaged it.”

Astrid nodded, once again directing her stare elsewhere.  “Shouldn’t you not know all this?”

Cullen shrugged.  “There is only so much Cass can hide from me.  We are partners, who see each other’s workloads constantly.  It doesn’t take a scientist to see work flow shifts and investigation changes.  Furthermore, she wants me to meet this next of kin, especially since they are from Kirkwall.  There are very few people I did not meet as knight-captain while living there.  I probably know the person and did not realize the family connection.  So, why hide it now when it could get us a lead to a suspect?  Anyway, there are enough former Kirkwall residents living here to know when someone from there shows up.”

“Then she will cut you off, right?”

The ex-templar scrunched his nose, puzzled by Astrid’s question.  “Possibly.  If and when they prove it’s Revka, I will fully step away.  If she was murdered, I would not want my involvement tainting the case.”

Astrid exhaled like she had been holding her breath her whole life.  “Good.”

“That _doesn’t_ mean I will not bring important information forward.  If anyone in this town knows what led to her death it would be us, Astrid.”

The physician eyed him.  “I know that.  We all know that.”

Cullen leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.  “Then why don’t you want to help?”

His best friend took a bit of food.  She slowly chewed her bagel and finally swallowed.  A few minutes passed by while Cullen waited for her response.  “…Because, we have already had to live through Maya’s death once, and it nearly destroyed us.  You’ve already seen a change in Evie.  She is drinking more, withdrawn like after the big brawl.  Nate has been more elusive and sneaky instead of his outward brashness.  I don’t want anything terrible happening to us.  Things were just looking better.  We are all living here again, together and happy.  Nate was thinking about proposing and getting married.  You are getting better living with Evie.  This was supposed to be a new beginning.  Now…”  She took a drink of tea, her shoulder hunched over in defeat.  “I don’t want us to suffer alone again.  I _will_ protect you all.”

Good ole Astrid.  If the woman ever became a mother, she would be fantastic, possibly even a helicopter mom.  In any scenario, she protected her kin both blooded and non-blooded.  Since losing her parents, her focus laid in the Pox’s.  Even during the Blight, she kept in contact with the others and Cullen, even when the ex-templar wanted to disappear and die.  Between Astrid and Mia, Cullen could never go missing even if he tried, despite his special operations training.  They both would be like student loan lenders and find him in some run down bar in the Anderfels and drag him back home.

Astrid was right that Revka Amell’s death dredged up the past.  However, the Pox’s were adults now, not hormonal teens who allowed small grievances to ruin their friendship.  They will persevere through this troubling time and maybe be able to look past Maya’s death with accepting eyes than with the hollow stare the group held every time someone brought up the car accident.

“I think we are all grown up enough to take care of ourselves, Asty.”  Cullen smirked, happily receiving his virgin coffee from the waitress.

Astrid rolled her eyes.  “How about you act like an adult and tell the others about your addiction then?”

Cullen winced and took a sip of coffee.  “That’s something different.”

The doctor shook her head.  “Is it?  You haven’t even told me what happened to you, even knowing that I will never break your confidence.”

The words fell out of Cullen’s mouth before he could filter the sourness.  “Just like you were covering for Evie about who exactly hears my nightmares?”

Astrid pursed her lips, her stolid facial features giving away nothing.  “Even that.  You all know I keep your secrets.  I work to iron out the causes without breaking your confidence in me.  That’s how I know none of you are adult enough to handle the cluster fuck that could harm us.”

Cullen always wondered how many secrets Astrid knew but never admitted.  She was an excellent chess opponent for that reason, keeping a straight face as she moved her pieces into striking position.  The former soldier wondered how many times she maneuvered the Pox’s into positions to resolve issues and become better people.  Someone might say she poked her nose in places that were none of her business, but she always gave good advice and people willingly confided in her.  She sat at the middle of a huge spider web where people weaved around her.  She heard and witnessed everything.  However, she was not like Evie, who could make assumptions and hypotheses of what may occur.  That was why Cullen never worried about Astrid manipulating him and their other friends.  She knew everything, but kept everything locked deep inside like a bank vault secure behind a stone expression.

A sickening thought crossed the man’s mind right then.  “Would you protect us even if you had important information about the investigation?  Did you know what was happening in the Amell house?  Would you hide circumstances to protect the Pox’s?”

Astrid tilted her head, her grey eyes shimmering with warmth and care.  An inch of concern blinked behind her irises.  “If I did, don’t you think I would have figured out a way to protect Maya?  Yes, I visited that house the most out of the Pox’s.  Revka and Maya believed, cherished, and trusted me.  To think, someone in that house abused Revka.  Did Maya witness it?  Was she a victim too?  I failed her as a friend so many times before her death.  All of this now make me realize I knew nothing going on in my friend’s life.  I feel so guilty.  What hurts more is that Maya did not trust me enough to tell me what she saw there.  None of us knew, Cullen.”

The woman’s voice cracked and wavered as she finished her admission, demonstrating a small snippet of what she felt inside.  Just like a finger snap, her stern face formed across her fair skin again.  Cullen’s mouth gapped at Astrid’s feelings.  He should feel the same, even more so because there was a time Maya and he loved one another.  They shared their bodies and hearts throughout a year’s time.  He thought he wanted to marry her at one point.  However, did he _truly_ know Maya?  The shy meek young woman never stated any worries of concerns about her home life or any aspect of her world to anyone.

“Of course, this is presuming that skeleton is Revka Amell.”  Astrid admitted before taking another sip of herbal tea.

“Yeah…”  Cullen mumbled, suddenly hoping like Astrid those remains were not Revka Amell.  If they are not, the ex-templar can go back to thinking he knew Maya intimately.

The buzzing smartphone sitting on the café table pulled Cullen out of his thoughts.  Astrid reached for her phone, unlocking it with her thumb print.  “It’s Wynne.  She wants me to come in early.  The ER is already overflowing.”

Cullen chuckled.  “If it is, that means the courthouse is too.  I might as well find out who this next of kin is.”  He pulled out his wallet, knowing it was his turn to pay this week.

Astrid stood up and walked around the table.  She placed a soft kiss on Cullen’s tamed hair.  “Don’t worry about Evie.  She’ll talk it out after she has drank all the tequila in the arling.  Maybe if you talk to her about your own addiction problems, she will give up the drink binge earlier than usual.”

The ex-templar groaned, throwing the smiling physician a look.  “I know what you’re doing, Asty.  Let me handle my problems my own way.”

The physician shrugged, waving once as she walked to her Audi parked in front of the café.  “I had to try.  Goodbye, Rutherford.  Don’t break curfew.  No TV until your homework’s done.  Go to bed on time.”

“Yes, Mom.  Ugh.”

“No back lip from you!”

 

* * *

 

“…And that’s why Fifth Street is never paved correctly.”  Alistair finished, crossing his arms over his sheriff uniform and smiling proudly.  He sat on the desk corner, while speaking to Barris and Hugh.

Barris squinted, trying to comprehend the story he just heard.  His focus was on the sheriff so much that he never register that Cullen entered the police department within the courthouse.  Currently, the Chantry was building a new administrative building by the old Chantry cathedral that will house all the institution’s offices.  Search-and-Rescue shared offices with the arling sheriff’s department until then, renting a few offices in that courthouse wing.  The Sheriff’s Department needed the funding for payroll the remaining deputies following budget cuts.

“How again did you all get the drive train stuck in that pothole?” Hugh quizzed, rubbing his eyes.  His head spun in confusion.

Cullen did not need to question the gathered officers and ex-templars to know what tale Alistair just told.  The commander just waved and rattled off the answer.  “Only Nate can flip a Volkswagen bus a full 360 degrees and not blow himself up.  Mythbusters might have proven the whole stunt was a myth, but god ole Nate proved it could be done.”

“Too bad it buried that axial so deep into the road that nothing can pull it out.”  Alistair shrugged.  “One of these days, I am going to get a call saying some tourist crashed into that sticking out pipe and totaled their vehicle.  Can you imagine me trying to explain all of that to a judge?  ‘Sir, us Pox’s break the laws of physics.  You must acquit.’ ”

Cullen chuckled and fist bumped his best friend.  “Just use the Chewbacca defense.  It’s as confusing so the jury will just ask for a mistrial.”

Barris glanced at his partner Hugh.  “I gave up trying to figure out these people.”  Hugh just cackled and leaned back in his chair.  The Fereldan templar thumbed down the hall where the main offices laid.  “Seeker was looking for you, Sir.  She seemed pretty irritated.”

Alistair picked up his coffee.  “Nate’s probably missed the g-spot again.”

Cullen laughed once, shoving so hard Alistair almost spilling the sheriff’s nasty office coffee.  “That’s assuming he knew where it is.  The guy can’t even find his dick, let alone a clit.”

Barris and Hugh’s mouths gapped.  They traded looks then gawked at their commander.  “Sir?”

The commander cleared his throat, wearing his authoritative persona.  “Isn’t there something you two should be doing right now?”  His roaring voice boomed in the open sheriff office.  Barris and Hugh stood up, saluted, and bolted back to their temporary desks nearby.  Cullen threw the sheriff a quick glare.  “I would appreciate you not distracting my troops, Sheriff.”

Alistair shrugged and smiled.  “And miss hearing those sexy commands.  Take me here and now, Commander.”  Alistair ducked and rushed away right as Cullen pivoted and went to flick his friend’s ear.  The sheriff took the opportunity to toss one last joke.  “We know how much you love fucking on a desk!”

Cullen both growled and chuckled as he waltzed down the hallway.  Oh, that was an embarrassing experience from high school.  How should Maya and he have known the math teacher’s desk had a broken leg?!  Knowing Nate and Evie, they probably sawed it off and trapped the couple in there as a prank. 

Cullen was a man of business and duty, but only Alistair could make him break his leadership persona and smile.  After the morning he just had, it felt good to laugh and joke.  Between Evie’s drinking harshness and Astrid’s overprotective nature, Cullen was done with dealing with woman drama.

Too bad he was about to meet Maya Amell’s relative to discover if her mother was dead and murdered.

And about to speak with moody Cassandra.

Cassandra’s office was the last one on the left, adjacent to his own.  The commander glanced inside his temporary space with its half wooden panel, half glass walls that peeked into the department’s open area.  Stacks of files and requests littered the top along with missed phone call slips and paper filing he really did not want to do today.  Since Cassandra handled the discovered remains, Cullen handled more of her Orlesian workload, which meant dealing with pretentious Orlesian nobility, who complained poachers hunted their rare animals before they could.  Most poaching cases in Orlais dealt with families needing the meat and skins to not starve, but the nobles did not care.  They expected Cullen to pay for the lost game and persecute the hungry poor families.  Maker, he will not complain about Fereldan Frostback matters if it meant Cassandra took back these stupid situations.

The commander knocked twice on Cassandra’s doorframe with his knuckle, leaning inward and peeking his head in like he was wary his partner might throw something.  Cassandra’s hand rubbed her forehead while she studying a document closely.  From her infamous cheek twitch, she was agitated and not in a particularly good mood.  Cullen thanked the Maker he was not beaned with a red stapler.  “Seeker?”

Cassandra grunted, slapping down the document she was reading.  She rolled her neck and head along her shoulders a few times.  “What a headache…”

Cullen perked an eyebrow.  “What happened?”  He slowly entered the cluttered office, noticing the newest used target practice sheets hanging on the side wall.  On a cork board laid photos taken from the cave sight with yarn tying facts and observations together.  Under the sign ‘Next of Kin’ the seeker wrote a name in pencil, but had yet to hang up their photo.  From Cullen position sitting in a partly cleared chair, he could not read the name.

“This case gets more bizarre the longer I dig…”  Cassandra snorted and slammed her hand down on the messy desk.  Cullen adjusted his behind in his seat, not sure if he should be hearing this.  He remained quiet and let his partner rant.  “I was under the impression that the Amell surname was Franklin’s last name, but it was actually Revka’s.  Franklin took his wife’s surname after they married to hide his past and inherit her noble distinction.  For most of my investigation, I was searching for a man who did not exist prior to his marriage.”

Cullen pinched his nose.  “I was not aware of his changed name.”

Cassandra continued like she never heard the commander speak.  “Come to find out his family was originally from Haven…during the Dragon Age, actually.”

That perked Cullen’s attention.  “Come again?”

“His real name is Francis Tamar.”  Cassandra pushed herself up and out of her seat to begin pacing.  “His ancestor was the last survivor of the Disciplines of Andraste, who were killed by the Grey Wardens while seeking Andraste’s ashes.  His ancestor, the first Tamar, hid in the Frostbacks for a while fighting Chantry officials trying to eliminate the cult.  She later travelled overseas to the Vimmarks.  Her descendants established a new cult following there.  Francis grew up in the cult compound, but escaped and ran to Kirkwall when he was fifteen.  He was hired by Fausten Amell, Revka’s father, who slowly lost the Amell fortune trying to free his son, Damion, from prison after being found guilty of lyrium smuggling.  Because Fausten was so caught up with growing legal debt and partitioning his son, he did not notice that his daughter eloped and ran away with Franklin to Amaranthine City until after it was too late.  Revka already gave birth to her eldest son, Abraham, when Fausten caught up with the married couple.  Fausten’s plan was to force Revka and Francis to annul the marriage, but Revka was of legal age when they married and shared her husband’s ultra-orthodox religious views.  Divorce was not a choice no matter the circumstances unless Fausten wanted his daughter shunned in nobility circles.”

Cullen shook his head, trying to understand this new information.  “Wouldn’t the Disciplines of Andraste be considered progressive and not conservative?  And you said Franklin—I mean Francis—left the cult.”  Cullen’s history hobby served him well at the moment, remembering his hometown’s long and bloody history.

Cassandra exhaled and tossed her hand in the air.  “The modern Disciplines of Andraste actually kept to old doctrine recognized prior to the Inquisition and the Herald of Andraste.  They rejected that the Herald was sent by Andraste, thus the Herald’s choice of Divine Victoria and her progressive changes did not truly reflect the Maker’s will.  So, they created their interpretation of events to counter not the modern Chantry.  Revka’s next of kin stated Francis escaped because the cult leader, his uncle, was modernizing the group and gave women a larger role in their society.”

“And unlike the Chantry, the Disciplines of Andraste believed in male religious leaders.  By giving women power in their society meant going against tradition.”  Cullen concluded, slumping down in his seat.  “Are they aligned with the Black Divine?”

Cassandra shook her head no.  “The cult condemns Tevinter’s Chantry just like they don’t recognize Val Royeaux’s.  However, it somewhat explains the domestic abuse.”

“Does it?”  Cullen questioned, lifting his head.  “Franklin Amell loved his family and was a proclaimed pacifist.  He might not have agreed with the modern Chantry, but two of his children served the institution.”

“Yet, you Pox’s even admitted you did not know Abraham was a templar.”  Cassandra retorted, perking an eyebrow.

“Maybe we did not know because Franklin was ashamed about his eldest son’s path.”  Cullen leaned forward and rubbed his neck.  “Look:  I’m not defending Franklin, only explaining what I witnessed.  Yes, he ruled his household with an iron fist, but I never saw bruises on Revka, Maya, or Micah.  Statistics state that abusers do not just beat their wives and usually inflict harm on their children too.  Although, I do question how much I know about that family now.”

“There are many things that happen behind closed doors.”  Cassandra circled her desk and sat on the edge beside Cullen.  “We all have family qualities that are not public knowledge.  I’m just going by my source’s information.  I contacted Val Royeaux on any information on the current Disciplines of Andraste.  It explains though why Franklin hid his surname when he moved here.  I figure a town built and celebrating a warden victory over a dangerous cult would not accept a Tamar descendent.”

“Unless someone found out about Franklin’s past.”  Cullen suggested.  “Gives motive although it would make more sense to attack him than Revka.  Maybe she was used as blackmail against Franklin.  This is just assuming that body is her anyway.  We might be jumping the gun, you know.”

“I already sent DNA swabs to the lab after meeting her next of kin.”  Cassandra remarked, pointing out towards the common area in the department.  “It is on rush so it will be complete when Rylen arrives.”  The seeker cleared her throat and tugged at her unbuttoned dress shirt collar.  “By the way…the family member remembers you very well…and you know him.”

Cullen studied the woman out of the corner of his eye.  “Oh?  Who is it?”

Cassandra nibbled at her lip.  “He mentioned you two left on bad terms.  Something about knowing similar people from here.”

The commander now was very curious and stern.  “Who is it, Cassandra?”

The seeker sighed and flipped her pixie cut up.  “Garrett Hawke.”

Cullen’s amber eyes widen as he jumped out of his seat.  He rushed to the door and out into the hall.  “When did he leave here, Cass?!”

“Cullen, wait!”  Cassandra call, chasing after him.  “He said there was no hard feelings.  There is no good reason to go beat up the Champion of Kirkwall!”

Cullen twirled around.  “ _I’m_ not the one who you should worry about beating that prick into a pulp.  Alistair!  You there!?”

The strawberry blond sheriff slid out of his office, his hand on his pistol ready to respond.  “What’s up?”

“Your Cherokee.  Now.”  Cullen’s face flashed back at his partner.  “Where did he say he was staying?  Where was he going after leaving here?”

Cassandra stomped up to the commander.  “What is this all about, Rutherford!?  Who is going to beat Hawke up?”

Alistair’s hazel blue eyes exploded, causing the sheriff to rush back into his office for his coat and hat.  “Oh fuck!”

“Where, Cass?!”

“Varric’s bar.  The Singing Maiden.”  Cassandra rang, watching as the two men met in the common area and marched towards the department double doors.  “He’s staying with Varric until the results come back.”

Alistair and Cullen both traded glances.  The sheriff studied his friend closely to determine their best course.  “Was she at home when you left for brunch?”

“Nope.  She was pissed after I asked about her tequila drinking.”

“Meaning she is drinking now.  Damn that woman.  She never got to give anyone a knuckle sandwich last month too.”

Alistair shoved the double doors open, while Cullen shot a look over his shoulder.  “Cass, call Nate.  Tell him Eve is about to exact her revenge.”

Cassandra’s mouth gapped.  “Trevelyan?!  What does she have against Hawke?!”

Cullen growled and redden.  The vein in his temple popped out like it was about to explode.  “The prick cheated on her!”

 

* * *

 

_Eighteen Months Ago, City-State of Kirkwall_

Cullen was over packing.  Even if there were more items and knickknacks to wrap in newspaper and boxes, he was done doing it.  Was any of this stuff worth transporting back to Haven?  Was he going to use it?  Did his new studio apartment even have enough room for so much junk?  The now ex-templar was about to open the barracks door and put a “Free” sign up so other templars can just take what they wanted so Cullen could just escape Kirkwall.

The former knight-captain wanted to be far away from the sweet calling of lyrium that flowed like water through the officers’ quarters.  Since leaving the hospital, the song was a constant ring in his ears and soul.  Each breath was more difficult than the last like he was climbing a high gradient mountain and the air thinned with each step.  Sweat streamed down his temples and cheeks with each movement.  Cullen’s muscles burned and ached every time he turned or picked up a loaded box.

He needed to _leave now!_

“That’s the last of scuff marks in the bedroom.”  Evie declared, stepping out of the single bedroom with a cheap paint brush and closed white paint bucket.  Smudges of wall paint randomly scattered all over her tan face and even into her auburn hair.  Her bangs kept falling into her eyes, while her messy wavy curls bounced of her messy bun on top of her head.  “What do you do during sex?  Backflips?  It was just easier to repaint the full back wall instead of spot covering it.  I’m surprised you didn’t drill the woman in half!”

Thank the Maker Cullen faced away from Evie or she would have seen the disgust and regret written across his blanched face.  That woman Evie implied had been Bethany Hawke, who he just ended their…connection after several years of sharing benefits.  With Cullen’s retirement from the Templar Order and stopping lyrium, the ex-solider wanted to end his horrible habits.  That included his short flings where he used women for release and tossed them aside when he was done.  Bethany took the break up well, not entirely shocked, but definitely hopeful she could change Cullen for the better.  After all the actions the knight-captain committed, no one could save Cullen’s soul, even one of the most darling and pure women he ever met.

Cullen wiped his face on his dirty white t-shirt neck, hopeful he removed the self-loathing plastered on his face.  He glanced over his shoulder.  “What about the bathroom?”  He ignored her joking completely.

Evie just squinted, surprised by his lack of retort.  “It’s covered in small tiles.  There is no painted areas in there.”

Cullen smacked his forehead.  The withdrawal made him forget simple facts.  “Right.  Um, I’m almost done moving these boxes into the living room.  Spot check this hall for me?”

The man’s best friend smiled and nodded.  “Of course.  Anything to help you get out of this nightmare.”  Evie put down the paint can.  “Let me grab the painting plastic from the other room so I won’t dribble on the carpet.  We’re trying to get your security deposit back.  I don’t want be the cause of you being broke after all this.”

Cullen huff laughed once.  “This place will look like a sanctuary compared with some other barrack apartments.  We templars are messy barbarians sometimes.”

Evie rolled her bright green eyes.  “Please.  You categorize your socks by ankle height and color, Rutherford.”

Suddenly, an annoying buzzing sound rattled the walls and front door.  Cullen hated that old doorbell.  He will not miss it.  After all, that was all he remembered hearing when he overdosed a few weeks ago.  Thank the Maker for Evie and her assistance.  She had not left his side since Cassandra called her.  They already had several fights about her proposing ending her post-doctorate position early to join him in Haven.  The former officer explained he and Cassandra would be staying in Val Royeaux, while establishing the Haven Search-and-Rescue Division.  All his belongings will be waiting for him following the transition period.  There was no need for his best friend to ruin her blooming career for his pitiable ass.

“That’s me…”  Cullen remarked, tossing some discarded old tape aside to answer the door.  Evie just giggled and shook her head.  She wandered into the back bedroom to retrieve the plastic.             

Cullen stepped over boxes and other obstructions in the hallway, passed the small kitchen, and the stuffed living room.  Boxes, disassembled furniture, and packing supplies towered in stacks along the walls, just waiting for the moving pod to pack and ship over the Waking Sea.  The ex-templar glanced at the clutter and quickly quenched the panic attack looming over him.  How was Cullen supposed to get everything done in time?

The former officer quickened his pace towards the front door once the visitor rang the doorbell a second time.  The buzz aggravated his booming headache to the point the man might punch the waiting person for inflicting so much pain.  Calm, Cullen.  He can beat this horrible pain.  Cullen chose this path to regain his soul and atone for his actions.

Cullen grasped the doorknob, twisted, and pulled the metal door open.  His amber eyes scanned from the floor to head height; his panic rising as he recognized the visitor.  The small smirk he had on his face shifted to regret and awkwardness.  Cullen clinched his jaw and straightened his back.  “Hawke.”

Garrett Hawke wore a shiny black leather jacket over his Kirkwall graphic t-shirt.  His sun-bleached jeans were torn along the thighs and knees, probably when he fell off his Harley Davidson for the millionth time.  His raven black hair was slicked to the side, disheveled from wearing his old style riding helmet and the wind blowing through the straight hair.  His beard was unkempt and he gave up trimming it down his neck, along his lips, and cheeks.  Cullen could be accused of the same at the moment, looking like he woke up an old grizzly man.  However, Garrett could wear it fashionably, driving men and women wild with his edgy persona.  Cullen just looked like a train wreck.

“Noodle Head!”  The Champion called, waving his hands outwards.  He stepped forward and used his large size to convince Cullen to step aside.  He waltzed into the barracks apartment.  He held up a liquor bottle.  “Got you a ‘Getting Out of the Void’ farewell gift.”

Cullen was not amused with the man’s light mood.  His whiskey eyes flicked to the bottle.  It was Starkhaven single-malt whiskey, Cullen’s favorite.  With a monotone voice, the ex-templar replied, “You shouldn’t have…Nightshade or arsenic mixed in?”  He pivoted and began down the entry way towards the cluttered living room.

“Now, now.”  Garrett waved and followed the solider inside.  “We’re past the hard feelings.  We don’t have to hate each other anymore because Meredith is gone.  The Wicked Witch is dead!  Kirkwall’s safe…kinda.  You’re not an asshole templar anymore.  Happy ending.”

Cullen’s whiskey eyes narrowed.  “Happy ending?  This city looks like a nuclear gaatlock fell on it.”

Hawke shrugged, smirking in the process.  “Eh.  So, is that any different from a year or five years ago?  It wouldn’t be Kirkwall without something horrific happening.”  The man was being sarcastic, burying his cynicism behind jests.  “You’re leaving.  Probably for the best.  After all, half of this insanity was your fault.”

Cullen scrunched his nose and growled.  “I was following orders.  You and your band of vigilantes mucked up missions and-“

“-We had souls and saw that Meredith was crazy.  You’re in denial.”

“For the first time in years, I have a clear mind.  I will redeem myself after so many mistakes.”  Cullen declared, staring Garrett down and getting in his face.  “I’ll show you I’m a better person than you think-“

“-Cullen, I think I fucked up.”  Evie called, tugging a large sheet of plastic down the hallway.  “There’s a horrible streak of paint down one wall-“  The geologist lifted her head and observed the two men close and about to battle.  Her bright green eyes shifted between Cullen and Garrett, mouth gapping like a fish.  “G-Garrett…?  W-why are you h-here?”

Cullen can count on one hand instances where Evie was so rattled that she did not begin situations without her hollering or sassing her way into the conversation.  He observed her crawling inward at seeing the Champion of Kirkwall facing off with her best friend.

The ex-templar perked an eyebrow, studying the woman.  “You two know each other?”

The former soldier watched Evie bite her lower lip, swallowing the emotions and pain to wear her angry sassy persona.  “You could say that.”  She gritted, stomping forward.  “Hawke knows everyone.  So much in fact, his way of saying hello is sleeping with them, even when he declared he would be exclusive to you.  So, who is your bed playmate right now, hm?  Isabella Tits Magee or Broody Fenris.  Probably both because nothing like filling all the holes, huh Garrett?  The more the merrier.”

Cullen somehow kept himself standing, disbelieving his assumption.  “You slept with him.”

“Ha!”  Hawke whistled, stepping away from the ex-templar.  “Please…She doesn’t sleep with anyone!”  The Champion mocked at the auburn haired woman.  “She preferred to tease and twist her boyfriends into knots to the point I had blue balls.  I was exclusive for a while, but you still kept your legs closed.  Never gave any clue you were going to make up your mind about us.  How you felt about me.  You dangled a carrot in front of my face and never gave me any idea if we would take the next step.  I even offered you to move in with me and a top position at the Bones Pit.  What else was I supposed to do?  I had such bad calluses on my hands, I could not hold my pistol right.”

“Go fuck yourself _again_ , you tit!” Evie mumbled, breathing deeply.  “Leave me alone and don’t even come near my best friend.”  She pointed at Cullen with a shaking hand and arm.

Garrett laughed deep in his chest, covering his eyes with one hand and held himself up against a stack of boxes.  “Curly’s _your_ best friend.  Oh, this is great!  You accuse me of being player and a cheat, while you hang out with a guy who tosses bedmates out with the morning trash.  The indecisive templar who enjoys destroying families and beats up people.  You two belong together in some sick twisted universe of sexual bullshit and hate.  Wait until I tell Bethany that her hopeful love chose a heavy drinking prudent bitch over her dear soul.”

“Enough!”  Cullen roared, shoving the Champion towards the front door.  The force was so much that Hawke dropped the Starkhaven glass bottle on the white carpet, busting the glass.  Amber liquor sprayed everywhere, stained the carpet, and soaked the surrounding boxes to the point items inside poked through the cardboard.  There went the security deposit.  “Get the fuck out!”

“With pleasure…”  Hawke muttered, flipping off both Evie and Cullen.  He stomped over to the door and flew it open.  With one last glance, he hollered, “I feel sorry for wherever you’re going, Templar.  Anywhere you walk, your filth taints everything and ruins lives.  Maybe with you gone, Kirkwall can recover and thrive.  Enjoy the Void, Prick.  Evie, you still can’t out drink me!”  The Champion slammed the door behind him, rattling the walls and making a few items fall down the stacked boxes.

“Oh yeah!”  Evie hollered, throwing down the plastic.  She stomped towards the closed front door.  “I still fight and ball kick better than you!  Your dick will forever be bent like a tetris block with each erection.  Every time you see it, you’ll think of me and remember the woman you never could lay!”  The geologist tossed up hands and screamed, clomping back to the bedroom in rage.

Cullen ran his hand through his disheveled curly hair, wishing there was a way to calm the twisting curls.  He massaged his neck and stretched his head side to side.  He heard the cracks, trying to process what just happened.

Evie and Hawke dated.

The thought made Cullen want to vomit.  A deep rage burned under his skin just thinking of them in bed together.  Yet, that never happened.  It still bugged the ex-templar that his best friend considered such a sarcastic ass as a serious boyfriend.  Why did it rattle him to the bone?  Evie with anyone made him re-taste the beers and burger he ate for lunch.  He had no right to judge her romantic choices, especially sexual partners, but Cullen could not help but feel furious at the prospect.

Evie never could find descent partners, male or female.  Cullen could strolled through his text messages and see numerous texts from her ranting about a bad date or horrible relationship.  Cullen’s mind slowly pieced together small details that pinned Hawke and she together.  Evie never said the guy’s name or where he was from.  The on-and-off relationship was only brought up randomly when they texted.  She danced between praises and disdain speaking about that mystery man.  All her issues with the man easily formed the egotistical portrait of Garrett Hawke.

Cullen never really mentioned Bethany, so why did he feel she should have told him Garrett’s name?  Could Cullen have saved her the grief and warned his best friend about Kirkwall’s millionaire playboy who enjoyed acting above the law to save the city-state?  Probably not because Garrett was a charismatic, funny man who attracted many potential lovers.  Evie fell under his spell probably.

Evie had the right to keep their relationship a secret.  There was many things Evie never told him.  Just like Cullen hid his own secrets.

Still, the man felt betrayed and hurt.

The ex-templar sighed and allowed his hand to fall from his neck.  He slowly meandered down the hall and into his old bedroom.  Evie sat by the closet, drinking directly from a tequila bottle, a gift from Cullen for helping him move.  She already finished half of it that day.  He stood a few feet away and watched her swig the glass bottle and stare out into space.

“Where did you guys meet?”  Cullen questioned, knowing Evie needed to talk about this.  He needed to talk about it.  The betrayal and hurt demanded an explanation.

“An Ostwick bar…”  Evie leered, rubbing her eyes.  “Graduate celebration party.  We graduate students will party for anything, especially if there is free food.  He was in town for a mining business venture for his cursed Bone Pit and provided said free food.  It began as a drinking contest and turned into a long night of talking about anything and nothing.  He was like me:  sarcastic, gave as much lip as I could throw, and stubbornly independent.  You know very few people can take me on.  We saw each other when we traveled back and forth, specifically when he came to Ostwick.  He…he spoke like he carried the same regrets in his heart.  He carried his brother Carver’s death on his shoulders.  Me about Maya and what happened back then.  We were toxic, but it was also fun…cathartic.  After a few months, I asked him to be exclusive, serious about us because I wanted to test him.  I knew about his reputation, but he wanted to be with me.  Make it work somehow because he too felt the same loneliness and regrets.  He wanted to prove his playboy days were over.  I believed him, but would not sleep with him until I could truly trust him.  My philosophy is only sleep with someone _when_ you know you’re in love, not to find out _if_ you do love them.  Hawke and I fooled around, but never took the next step.  He got impatient; started getting his thrills from Isabella and Fenris.  I heard about his resumed thrills from family friends.  I drove here unexpected one weekend when I knew you were on a mission.  I knew you would kill him if I confronted him and you discovered our relationship.  I didn’t tell him I was coming.  I wonderfully walked in on Isabella and he doing some roleplay that would make my friend Zevran blush.  I will never be able to forget the scene.  It’s burned in my brain like a druffalo branding.  I just drove back to Ostwick and drank until my hurt turned into rage.  It reaffirmed I will live and die alone.  If I attempt romance again, I will just learn again that love is dead.”

Cullen exhaled and kneeled down beside his best friend.  Evie offered him the tequila bottle.  He openly accepted it and took a few gulps.  The fermented agave nectar burned away his jealousy, betrayal, and self-disgust.  “I’m so sorry, Eve.”

The geologist just shrugged.  “Good thing I didn’t love him.  It’s funny.  My prior boyfriend, Sebastian, never attempted to sleep with me.  You’ve probably met him if you know Hawke.  My undergraduate years were spent with someone who stayed with me for business and wealth purposes.  Good ole Trevelyans and their arranged relationships.  He used me to heighten his political position, a so-called pretty face on his arm; a new connection to complete the Trevelyan Family’s hold on the Free Marches.  With Rian married to Josephine and Patricia married to Laurent de Ghislain, they thought I could finally be of use instead of a disappointment.  Sebastian was nice, but too religious and stuffy.  In some ways he was worse than Maya when we would debate about faith and science.  That princely monk did not even attempt to kiss me.  The noble ass stated it was improper, but it subconsciously just told me I was too disgusting and hideous.  So, I went from one extreme to the other, a pure angel to a blackening demon.  Their true intentions were printed on their foreheads, and I still dived in and hoped for happiness.  I only have myself to blame.”

“Aren’t we a pair…”  Cullen remarked, thinking about his own twisted romantic life.

Evie snapped her head at him and grabbed the tequila bottle.  “No.  We’re not.  Never.”  She took a huge swig.  Her bright green eyes cut deep into his soul with the statement.  Cullen knew what she meant, and it stabbed him repeatedly anyway.  They will never be together for the Pox’s sake.  So, why did Cullen hate hearing her admit it so sternly?

The geologist lowered the liquor bottle, never breaking eye contact.  “What did he mean about you being so horrible for Kirkwall?  Beating people?  Ruining lives?  A taint?”

Cullen pinched his nose.  Immediately, his lyrium withdrawal overwhelmed his thoughts.  “It’s bullshit.”  He lied to her face, hurting with each uttered word.  “A cynical man needing a new villain to kill.”

Evie nodded before rolling up into the fetal position and laid down.  The alcohol was finally hitting her.  “I fulfill that requirement just as easily, if not more.  You have never done anything wrong.”

Cullen just stared at the woman lying on the dirty floor with dried paint all over her hair, face, and hands.  She did not know how much of a monster he truly was.  Evie always believed in him and fought for him to live and continue on when he wanted to give up.  He could not bust her pleasant bubble.  Out of anyone alive, he always wanted this wounded woman to always see him in the best light, a knight in shining armor like when they were kids.  Unfortunately, there was more darkness in Cullen’s world than light anymore.  Evie was his light, his urge to be a good person to live up to her praises.  Somehow, she believed she was just as evil as him.  Why?  How?

The blond Fereldan brushed Evie’s flushed cheek with his large callused hand, pretending to wipe away some paint but actually desired to touch her and be in her presence.  These urges were wrong.  He will not use her like a rag.  Not Evie.  Never.

“You’re just misunderstood… but _I_ understand you.”  Cullen whispered into her ear, swiping some hair out of her face.  He could tell by her breaths she was already asleep, her typical tequila coma.  He kissed her temple.  “I know you and believe you’re beautiful.  I see the burning fire in your eyes.  That is all that matters, Eve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone reads my main fan fiction, "Fire In your Eyes", knows I kind of made female Hawke a bad guy there too. It just keeps happening on its own. I love Hawke. I find he/she strong and courageous throughout all the events that happen in Dragon Age 2 and Inquisition. I think a reason why he/she turn "bad" in my stories is because how can two enemies in the past (Cullen and Hawke) just like each other after everything is over. Evie's personality is always to protect Cullen no matter if he is a lover, friend, or adviser. This clashes with Hawke, who is the exact same way (protective of friends, family, and lovers). I just wanted to say this before I get some hate. I love Hawke, just know that please!


	16. Fisticuffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Readers! I know it has been a month without an update, but my writing focus has been on my Dragon Age: Inquisition fan fiction, "Fire In Your Eyes." To make up for the delay, here is an extra long chapter for you. It will probably be another month before another chapter because you all are almost caught up with what I've written. If I can get FIYE's Part 3 completed in the next few weeks, I can focus on adding some new chapters here. Please be patient with me! :)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Use of firearms (by trained professionals) and implied alcoholism (Evie aka not a trained professional).
> 
> Very NSFW at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Chapter Song(s): "Ocean Man" by Week & "Cecilia" by Simon and Garfunkel

Nate was not a brawler.  He preferred to win battles with his wits or sneak in and out of situation before his adversary knew he was present.  However, the Pox’s agreed long ago to raise their fists for one another for very specific reasons.  The list was small, but contained very important circumstances that caused Nate to start swinging before an explanation.  One of those such situations rang through his ears when Cassandra called him.

_"Cullen said to call you and have you meet him and Alistair at the Maiden.  He thinks Trevelyan may harm Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.  Apparently, he cheated on her.”_

Nate did not remember anything else his girlfriend stated because he slammed his foot on the break, drifted the old bus into an u-turn, and zoomed back downtown.  His mind dismissed that he had cold groceries in the back, even after hearing a few wine bottles and a jug of milk roll on their sides and down the back seat.  He might have grunted before hanging up, his mind rolling with insults and curses to throw once he arrived.  His Blight military training flashed across his mind and into his muscles ready for the future battle.

A subconscious autopilot drove him down the main street and turned into the Singing Maiden’s parking lot.  Nate did not remember parking and turning off the engine.  His mind raced with more fighting moves and devilish ways to break bones than worrying about such mundane actions.  He kicked the driver side door open and hopped out.  The park ranger nearly ran right into Cullen doing the same thing out of Alistair’s Jeep Cherokee.

“What did this bastard do _exactly_ …?”  Nate growled, barely recognizing his own voice. 

Cullen perked an eyebrow, breaking his own deep scowl for a brief moment.  “Promised her a deeper relationship.  He couldn’t keep his pants on while waiting.”

Alistair appeared, pivoting around the front of the jeep.  “Sound familiar, Howe?”

Nate growled and clomped up to the bar’s front porch.  “I might have slept around for years, but I never cheated on a significant other if I’ve made a promise.  This douche will play for harming a Pox.”

“I thought the purpose of us being here is to _avoid_ a fight.”  Alistair muttered, grabbing the left front door knob, glancing inside.

“Then why did you call me?”  The ranger hissed and clutched his fist.

“Because Eve will listen to a group of us, not just one-“  Cullen replied, stepping inside.

Nate followed, blinded by the bright sun outside and entering a dark shadowed bar.  His ex-templar friend stopped mid-step causing Nate to run into his back.  Alistair stayed by the door, seeing the scene like Cullen.

“-You Tetris Dick Bastard!”

Nate side stepped and witnessed Evie’s right hook cracking a tall black bearded man’s nose and cheek.  He knew that punch well, receiving it a few times throughout the years when Nate said something insensitive and in horrible bad taste.  Nate watched the man, about two-hundred pounds of muscle and grizzly hair, stumble and grab for the nearest table to regain his balance.  Blood sprayed out of his nose like a fountain.

The ranger’s view of the fight cleared as Cullen rushed forward and grabbed Evie around the waist before she continued her attack.  “Fucking asshole dirt bag…!” Evie hollered, clawed, and wiggled, attempting to free herself from the ex-templar’s grasp.  Alistair rushed up behind Nate and grabbed his shoulder to still the ranger from taking his own shot at the cheating bastard.  Nate did not even register his own body lurching forward.

The bleeding man finally recovered his senses, laughing deep in his chest while holding his broken nose.  “Ha!  You still can throw a punch.  What about you toss one at Curly too?”

Nate scrunched his nose before registering who the stranger meant.  Both Nate and Alistair tossed a quick look at their friend, still holding onto the feisty Evie by the bar.  Cullen’s amber eyes narrowed.  “I can speak for all three men here that we have received our share of Eve’s knuckles.”

Alistair smirked, glancing at Nate.  “More than others, huh Howe?”

“Cullen!  Let me go!”  Evie screamed as Cullen grabbed her flaying arms reaching for her target.  “He deserves it!”

“That might be the case, but I don’t want to post your bail.”  The former solider replied, slowly wrapping his buff arms around the limber woman.

“That’s if he presses charges.”  Alistair eyed the man.  “I’m the sheriff.  Is that the case?”

Being silent throughout the exchange, Varric finally spoke from behind the bar.  Nate swore he caught the dwarf jotting notes into a journal.  He probably wanted to record the event for a book.  “Hawke?  Press charges for a love tap?  Nah.  For how many kicks and punches he threw in Kirkwall, he would be serving life in prison if that was the case.”

Hawke, the stranger, lowered his bloodied hand from his nose.  “No need, Sheriff.  Evie’s response to all her problems is drinking and fighting.  She’s a truly Free Marcher in that aspect.  The first time I ever met her, she challenged me to a drinking contest that led to her kicking me in the balls before passing out.”

“Tetris dick…”  Evie mumbled, her face flushed and sweating.

Alistair shrugged.  “At least she is predictable.”  He glanced at Cullen.  “Hand her over to Nate.  I sense E-vers here needs to get some aggression out the ole fashion way.”

Hawke grinned.  “What?  Spit-roasted by you three?  I assume you all follow Curly’s philosophy to relationships:  fuck and dump?”

Alistair gritted his teeth.  “Nope.  It’s not his either.  I don’t know why you’re here, but I would not tolerate slander against a friend and a Haven resident.”

The man glared at the ex-templar with his light blue eyes.  “Friend, huh?  I’m familiar with what type of _friends_ he attracts.  I’m also familiar with how his _friends_ led to my cousin’s death.  You throw the name Amell around this town, and you quickly learn about a band of plague boils who practically flipped a car down a mountain and into a tree.”  The pair of light blue eyes flicked to Cullen.  “So, your taint didn’t just begin in Kirkwall, huh?”

Nate stiffened, eyes wide.  “Who _are_ you, and what right do you have to throw around accusations about something you don’t know _anything_ about!?”

Cullen’s baritone voice cracked behind the ranger.  “Garrett Hawke is Maya’s relation…and thus related to Revka Amell too.  He’s here to test if the skeleton Eve found is Revka.”

Nate swallowed and heard Alistair shifted on his feet.  Evie slumped in Cullen’s arms, whimpering to herself.  “I see.” Nate proclaimed, pivoting towards Evie.  Cullen leaned his female friend into Nate’s arms.  “I think we all need an old fashioned anger release.”

“I’ll join you…”  Alistair declared, turning towards the door.  “I’m done at the station, and it sounds like the best medicine right now.”

Evie lifted her head to glance up at Nate.  “Tequila, please?”

“Eve-“  Cullen snapped, causing the woman to hiss at him.

Nate exhaled, not sure what that exchange was.  “That means you can’t participate.”

“I’m a lousy shot anyway.  I prefer liquid shots to bullets.”  Nate patted Evie’s messy hair before shifting her towards the door.  “Well, maybe a few paintballs to imagine they are me crushing his fucking nuts…?”

“Maybe.  Last time we played paintball, I left the arena looking like a blueberry from all the welts.”  Alistair remarked, showing the pair outside.

“Like when you were beat up in third grade by that Qunari?  Sten, I think his name was…”  Howe retorted.

Evie giggled between grunts, and Alistair exhaled deeply.  “You two still owe me a bag of gummy drakes for that stunt…”

Nate took his time shuffling towards the door.  His ears pinpointed Cullen’s mumbling at this Garrett Hawke.  “…Will you be a problem here, Hawke?”

“No more than you have been your whole life.”

Cullen pivoted towards the bar.  “Keep him out of trouble, Varric.  I know you all love playing heroes.  However, I won’t hesitate sending Howe and Trevelyan here to prank your asses and beat you senseless.”

“So, you learned the brutal trade from them?  I thought you were just a natural.”

Alistair held the door for Nate and Evie, who still slumped her head on his shoulder.  While exiting, Alistair grabbed Evie’s purse and a brown bag with the apothecary’s logo on the side.  Medical elfroot.  Evie apparently planned a party today.

“Let’s take the bus.”  Nate suggested, guiding his charge towards the old Volkswagen.  “Cullen can drive the cruiser back to the courthouse.”

Alistair nodded, tossing his spare keys inside the bar to the guarding ex-templar.  “We need to make any stops?”

Nate nodded.  “Ammo and…”  He pointed to the woman in his arms.  “And ammo for her.”

The sheriff sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “Not what I planned for my Tuesday.  And I want my bag of gummy drakes.  Sounds good right now.”

The ranger smirked, finally reaching his vehicle’s back door.  “I think all of us need such an afternoon now.”

 

* * *

 

If anyone asked for directions in Haven, locals always questioned if the person knew where the liquor mart was.  Not the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Chantry, hospital, or the courthouse.  Somehow, even if the person just pulled off the highway, they said yes.  It was a religious monument as much as the old ruins on top of the mountain.  All sorts of people entered and exited the large corner store including Chantry mothers, lawyers, and the random drifters.  So, Nate did not need to think of how to drive there.  Once again, his body auto-piloted the old rusty bus into the back parking lot.

When he entered, the old attendant behind the counter eyed the ranger closely.  Nate deserved the scrutiny for how many times he shoplifted the place for either his father or the Pox’s in his youth.  The first time he actually paid for a case of beer, the cashier pulled out a notebook filled with items he robbed over the years, ringing up each one until the total bill was over five thousand sovereigns.  Nate thought that was a little too high since he usually selected only the bottom shelf booze.  Although, the onetime his hand slipped and grabbed a high-grade tequila bottle on accident, it became Evie’s favorite.  Of course.  To that very day, Nate denies the thefts and the old cashier still points to the notebook with a scowl.

Nate left the liquor mart with a bottle of tequila and some bourbon for Alistair and he if they conclude their first anger management early or does not work.  About the same time, Haven’s Sheriff exited the pharmacy across the street with a gummy drake sticking out of his mouth and holding a bag of other supplies needed during such ventures.  The sheriff drew the short straw to visit Seggrit’s gun store next door for the required ammunition, so his hands were very full.  Only the sheriff could wander into a pharmacy with several cases of bullets and not get the glare Nate received from the liquor store cashier.  Alistair glanced both directions before skipping across the street to rejoin his friend.

“I picked up aspirin for the inevitable headache she is going to have after this is over.”  Alistair mumbled, while gripping a gummy dragon with his teeth.

Nate perked an eyebrow.  “From the liquor shots or the gun fire?”

Alistair shrugged.  “Who knows with that woman...”

The ranger smirked wickedly as the two men ventured back to the Volkswagen bus behind the liquor mart.  They had left Evie in the bus to wallow in her anger and disgust.  “Want to really make her get a headache?”

The strawberry haired police officer eyed his friend.  “We have already left Cullen to hold back her hair last week.  Please tell me you did not pick up red wine…”

“Nope.”  The park ranger grinned.  “But I did fix the stereo…”

Alistair mouthed ah-ha, smiling.  “We’ll use my Spotify.  I think the last arriving Pox has not been pranked enough since her return.  She hasn’t mentioned the spider, and I still haven’t reset my phone.”

“Enjoying the porn star at night, are you?”

“No need for that.”

“Vivid imagination then?”

“No need to imagine what you get sex in the flesh.”

“Oh!  Sheriff Theirin is getting some then?”

For a second, Alistair’s face paled before he rebounded back to its buffoon color.  “Well, I-I’m sheriff.  W-who wouldn’t want to bang the head of the police d-department?”

Nate’s brain immediately tried to determine the potential person sharing the sheriff’s bed.  If Nate was sheriff and still single, Alistair’s explanation would be true.  Nate would use that position to pick up a tourist or whatnot.   But he was not, Alistair Theirin was; the golden boy who once confessed to a Chantry mother about knowing Nate touched himself and could not live with the potential guilt.  During the Blight, Alistair was a virgin for sure by his fear of seeing a fellow female guard bathing in a lake while on patrol.  However, once he became a police officer, the virgin was no more.  He matured a great deal and did not out-lobster Cullen when seeing a woman take off her shirt.  He no longer asked what Nate meant by specific slang for female anatomy and could actually give a good estimate on a woman’s breast size at the bar.  Even knowing Cullen and Maya slept together, Nate would peg the ex-templar was still a virgin by his stumbling and embarrassment. 

So, who was Alistair’s bedmate?

_“Sometimes, some things should be kept to themselves.  We all are getting to the age where that is truer than ever…If and when you two marry, she will be a Pox.  She knows it, and we do too.  Maybe this will be an opportunity for us to respect one another’s privacy.”_

That exchange nearly two months ago rushed over Nate.  It nagged him then just as it Alistair’s admittance did now.  For most people, they would allow their friend to have some privacy and leave their bed relations alone.  At most, someone would dig for some information like a name or for how often their rendezvous occurred.  But Nate was not like normal people.  For the life of him, Nate never understood why he needed to know everything going on.  Maybe it was from living in a house where he feared his father’s wrath, so Nate had to know every action his father performed.  It could possibly relate back to finding out so many family lies the worst possible ways.  Maybe he feared the unknown and needed to shine a flashlight at every shadow and dark hole to know what surrounds him.

No, it connected back to Howe’s urge to know _why_ Maya was on that road so late that Guardian night.  It also equated to his disbelief that Evie would try to kill herself.  Nathaniel Howe needed to know _everything_ regarding the Pox’s because the last time he did not know led to the six friends fighting and screaming to the point they pushed one another away.  Maya died alone and cold that night eleven years ago without voicing her feelings and thoughts, leaving Nate to wonder all that time if his other friends knew the truth but kept it secret.

It was wrong to always suspect and not trust the Pox’s, but Nate could quickly name off all the times they hid secrets from one another.  Nate did not mind the secrets as long as he knew them.  However, no one told him their secrets or concerns.  They turned to Astrid, the mother hen who disguised every look behind her blank façade.  It unnerved the ranger how much she knew and kept from him.  Nate worked for years to let go of such suspicions and second-guessing, but it was his nature.  He never wanted to be caught off-guard again.

After all, if that skeleton was Revka Amell, that meant Maya hid secrets from him too.  Innocent Maya never hid anything from him.  She promised-

“Hurry up, you two!”  Evie hollered out the side bus door as the two men approached the rusty vehicle.  “The triple is wearing off…”

Alistair’s blue hazel eyes beamed, tossing the ammunition bag in the back by her sandaled feet.  “Why don’t you start smoking that elfroot I saw you had purchased earlier, if you’re so antsy?”

Evie eyed the man closely before her bright green saw the top of her favorite tequila bottle inside the bag Nate carried.  “I don’t want to stink up the bus.”

Nate unloaded his goods farther down the middle seat away from Evie just in case she tried to break into the tequila early.  The bottles hit his now room temperature groceries he bought earlier.  They might be friends with the sheriff, but Alistair will still arrest him for an open alcohol container in the vehicle.  He had done that last year when Cassandra refused to give up her bottle of wine leaving Leliana’s girls night party.  Alistair pulled them over and started reading the ranger his Miranda Rights, completely serious on his intent.  Drunk Cassandra gulped the bottle and turned it over to illustrate it was empty and thus not an open container.  Alistair tried to challenge her, but she quickly scared him shitless ranting she had jurisdiction in that area since they were on Chantry land.  The sheriff just nudged his best friend and stated they needed to bring her along the next bar crawl.

Alistair muttered under his breath while pulling out his cellphone.  On the screen was already the Spotify application.  “It already smells like Nate’s bad one-night mistakes.”

Nate flicked the sheriff’s ear as the man stepped into the front passenger seat.  Evie slammed the side door close, not noticing that Nate’s hand had flicked the inside door handle.  “You cannot have one-night stands when you’re in a committed relationship, idiot.”  The park ranger hissed; his mind already conjuring the multiple times Cassandra could not wait to get home to have her way with him.  When that woman hit her romance peak, there was no force in the Fade that would stop her from unzipping Nate’s pants and sucking his cock.  It was a miracle the sheriff’s department had not caught the pair on the side of road with the bus’ windows completed fogged over along the side of the road.

Nate stopped in front of the bus and pouted.  He pulled out his cellphone from his jean pocket and quickly sent a text to his girlfriend.  _I love you, my Warrior Princess_.  Nate already knew what look she would give the text.  Cassandra would huffed and roll her eyes, but turn away from anyone nearby to blush that soft peach color that accented her Nevarran cheekbones and iconic long scar on her cheek from a dragon attack years ago.  Maker, he really needed to find out her future plans.

As the driver door opened, Nate overheard Evie’s response to Alistair’s quip.  “No, I know that smell from Kirkwall.”  Both male friends threw each other a look.  Their pair of eyes flicked back at the woman holding her legs close to her chest and staring out the side window with a depressed and yearning look on her face.

“Music?”  Nate asked at Evie, but more to signal his fellow mate to que up his choice.  Evie just grunted.  “It takes about thirty minutes to get there.  If you are just going to sit there and frown, I’m going need it.”

Alistair smirked as he showed the park ranger the phone screen.  His thumb hollered over the ‘play’ button.  “Me too.”

Evie just grumbled again.

Nate turned over the old engine, sending electricity to the updated stereo system that was worth more than the actual vehicle.  Once a year since high school, the Pox’s sent him a one-hundred sovereign check each for the upkeep on the Warden bus.  Nate would report what he did with the money at the end of the year.  One year, there was no real repairs he could do alone, so he updated the music system with a jack port so the friends could use their phones and MP3 players instead of older media.

Nate quickly pulled out of the back parking lot, his grey eyes flicking at Alistair to wait to hit play until he was at a descent speed.  Evie was known to jump out of vehicles not a high speed if she hated specific music.  Even locking the side bus door before Evie closed it, Nate knew she would still try to escape.  So, Alistair watched the odometer reach forty outside of town heading to their destination.  Both men nodded, and the passenger hit play.

_“_ _Ocean man, take me by the hand, lead me to the land that you understand_

_Ocean man, the voyage to the corner of the globe is a real trip_

_Ocean man, the crust of a tan man imbibed by the sand_

_Soaking up the thirst of the land…”_ **[1]**

“AHHHHH!!!”  Evie hollered, breaking out of her melancholy.  Both hands grabbed the side bus door.  Her whole body jiggled and pulled the handle as she hollered at the top of her lungs.  Both male friends burst out laughing and high fived.  Evie let go of the door handle and stretched her body towards the liquor bag.  Nate turned right harder than he needed around a turn to shove her away from the treat.

Nate glanced up at the rearview mirror, turning up the stereo.  “Give it up, Trevelyan.  You know you want to sing it…”

“It’s not singing it, you ass!”  Evie shoved Alistair’s seat in front of her.  “It will be engrained in my mind for a week!”

Alistair twisted and looked behind him.  “Only a week?  Maker, we aren’t playing it enough then.  If you aren’t singing it for at least a month, then we’re failing you as friends.”

“You’re both pricks!”  Evie yelled, crossing her arms.  She scowled in her bus seat and bit her lips.  Nate knew she was trying not to mouth the words.  However, the dancer always got earworms, specifically songs she hated.  Alistair’s cellphone application already shifted from Spotify, keeping the song playing, to the built-in video app.  Nate chuckled while driving.  The sheriff waited with his phone ready to hit record.  “Fuck you, Alistair!”

“Give in…”  The strawberry blond cooed, giggling to himself.  “Right now, Cullen is dealing with your mess, and Astrid is going to have to set that douche’s nose.  At least give them something to smile about…and it’s on repeat until you start singing.”

It was always an unspoken rule in the clan that if someone implanted an earworm into Evie’s ear they must film it and notify the others.  That way, the friend with her could start singing the song again to continue the joke.  It worked every time.  The only drawback was Evie was a horrible singer sober.  Babies cried and people threatened murder hearing the geologist sing.  Yet, when she’s drunk, her voice reminded the group of a world famous performer with its majestic sound.

Evie grimaced and glanced out the window, losing her self-control.  “Ocean man, take me by the hand… _Fuck!_ ”

Nate nearly rolled the bus laughing so hard.

 

* * *

 

_"Cecilia, you're breaking my heart_

_You're shaking my confidence daily_

_Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees_

_I'm begging you please to come home…!”_ **[2]**

Nate winced and squeezed his grey eyes shut hearing the squeaking drunk woman banging her tequila bottle on the Volkswagen bus’ roof, while kicking her feet on the metal side.  The ranger turned his head away from the eight-times scope to throw the Free Marcher a look.  He suddenly regretted giving the woman control of the stereo.

Evie’s hair was up in one of her puffy buns, bouncing as she nodded and swayed with the old Simon and Garfunkel song.  Her sweatshirt was bunched up around her neck after she complained she was overheated.  She just pulled out her arms and let the garment rest on her shoulders without taking it completely off.  Each hand was full:  the left holding the tequila bottle a third empty already, and the right hand held an elfroot joint she swore was for medical purposes.

“I thought she got better singing when she is drunk…”  Alistair remarked, following Nate’s gaze behind him.  He leaned against an old fence post that once defined Nate’s childhood backyard.  Now, only a few cross beams still hung off the posts.

“She’s high.  Cancels out the hidden drunk ability.”  Nate commented, returning his attention to his scope rifle.  “Call the shot.”

Alistair lifted the binoculars and scanned the ridge over a half a mile away.  The tree line was recently lumbered in the last two years, which angered Nate to no end.  Apparently, the Trevelyan Mining Corporation acquired the mineral rights and planned to begin mining in the spring.  The ranger remembered wandering the forest as a boy, climbing the limestone cliffs and trees to see in all directions.  The whole land would be destroyed or at least disrupted soon.

“You see that half stump several inches below the crack in the left cliff face?”  The sheriff described.

“Where they split the cut and took what they could?”

“Yup.”

Nate calculated the shot through the scope, referencing the old batted t-shirt he placed in a pine on the next hill to gauge the wind.  He controlled his breath, reaching through the scope with all his senses.  Then, he took a huge breath and pulled the trigger on the Remington 700 rifle.  _Pow!_  

Evie abruptly stopped her horrible singing and waited.  Her bright green eyes flashed to Alistair, who watched wood splinters fly off the stump like confetti.  He lowered the binoculars right as Nate pulled the rifle bolt and allowed the .308 bullet casing to fly into his awaiting hand.  He placed another round in the chamber and rocked the bolt.

“You’re too good, Howe.”  Alistair hummed, setting the binoculars down on the fence post.  “A man who knows his craft…”

Nate grunted and gazed back through the scope.  When he was firing a rifle or loosing a bow, he was at his calmest.  Even Cassandra could not break his study, although she had not exactly tried.  The first time he took her to this spot it was to fire their pistols after she had a rough day at work.  The woman could definitely defend herself, but she did enjoy calling the sniper’s shots.  She challenged him that day naming targets over a mile away.  He impressed her by never missing and also his self-control.  It was from that she showed him to use those techniques in other aspects of his life, specifically when he thought back to his childhood.

However, sniper shooting did come with a price.  When Nate gazed through the scope, he sometimes saw the faces of the people he was ordered to kill during the Blight, specifically advancing diseased men that went crazy before the Blight killed them.  Nate always told himself he was protecting the healthy and putting the sick out of their misery.  It still did not stop the nightmares of seeing the target die like they stood beside him.

War used to be a close and personal interaction ages ago.  Knights fought face to face and saw when their sword or arrow took a life.  With the invention of rifles, battles became impersonal for most infantrymen.  However, snipers still witnessed kills like Dragon Age knights and archers.  A sniper might be over a mile away from their target, but scopes displayed the target’s face like they were just across the room.  Some faces still haunted the former soldier. 

Thank the Maker Cassandra understood that experience, especially as a Chantry Seeker.  The Nevarran shared her own haunting ghosts that evening after they went shooting.  Nate never spoke to anyone about what he experienced during the Blight.  People knew he served through grave digging and recovering remains, but not that he typically _killed_ the people he was burying for the sake to save thousands.  Alistair and Astrid served together in the same platoon, but Nate was often alone and on unique assignments.  Only he carried the stories about what happened.  His best friends could understand to a point, but not enough to help Nate like Cassandra did now.

The ranger took another shot at the stump, pleased when he saw the remaining wood splitter.  He ejected the casing and flicked on the safety.  He slowly crawled away from his blanket and hay placement to stand up.  With stretching his arms over his head, he twisted his body.  Vertebrae cracked and popped up his spine in the late fall afternoon.

Alistair knew that was Nate’s signal for a break.  Both men had been trading shots back and forth on the basic pistol range Nate designated nearby for the last three hours.  They only switched to Sniper HORSE when they successfully ran through all the pistol rounds and the targets looked like cheese.

“This place has looked better, Howe.”  Alistair remarked, glancing around the property.

“It’s better than when my old man was around…”  Nate replied, rubbing his eyes.  “It was one of the few things his misdeeds did not cost the family.  When Mom died, I feared I was going to have to sell it all to pay off the debts.  Delilah and I were able to hang on the main part of the acreage, but the house was fucked.  The Blight did a number on it, so it made sense to bulldoze it to ground.  Thomas was pissed, more because that meant he had nowhere to squat when he returned from wherever.  That was an added bonus.”

Alistair nodded, kicking a nearby rock.  One ear was turned towards the bus.  Evie decided to play Papa Roach next.  All the songs the drunk woman selected over the last few hours were anger cheating ex-lover songs.  “You heard from Thomas?”

“Nope.”  Nate declared, making sure his tone demonstrated his pleasure of not dealing with his younger brother.  Alistair exhaled, knowing the brothers rarely got along since Rendon Howe was sent to prison for life.  Nate figured his friend was asking more to keep his office alert if a drifter suddenly showed up in Haven.  They both knew Thomas’ M.O. after decades of friendship and being officers serving the public.

The ranger nudged his head towards the drunk woman.  “We should get her to rant.  She hasn’t stopped drinking.”

Alistair took a deep breath.  “This has her really messed up.  I didn’t think she and that Hawke were that close.”

Hawke.

Nate clenched his jaw.  Evie and he were very similar when it came to dealing with problems.  While Evie drank until she solved everything, Nate riddled targets until there was nothing left.  However, it was easy to see that a cheating ex was only half of the geologist’s issue, just as Nate wished he had another case of rounds.  However, Nate doubted learning that this Hawke was Maya’s relation was Evie’s hang up.  Alas, that was Nate’s problem.

When Cassandra stated she suspected the skeleton found was Revka Amell, Nate spent the remainder of the day here at the range, firing anything and everything he owned.  Each shot was a memory from the past that the man carefully combed through to find a clue or explanation to why anyone would want to kill Revka.  Yet, he left the range conflicted and without any answers.  He pressed Cassandra about the case when he got home, but the seeker stated it was an ongoing case and he could only be an informant.  Their relationship did not give him executive access to the investigation.

His girlfriend was keeping a secret from him.

Nate knew it was unreasonable to think about the investigation like that, but he could not help it.  He hated being in the dark.  He always needed to know what was going on, especially regarding his girlfriend and the mother of one of his best friend.  The ranger repeated to himself and Cassandra that he knew it must be that way, but he still wanted to know.  Nate still had to know.  The seeker decided it was best to leave the case at the office to not impact their relationship.  Nate understood, but he still could not let it go. 

Every time he thought about the Amell’s, Nate’s resolve fumbled and he kept thinking of every irrational thing that could be occurring in the case.  One thought he had just that day was that Cassandra was hiding something so she could cover her own secrets.  She was being deceitful not just about the case, but their romance.  Being blindsided by that Hawke, especially when he slandered Evie and Cullen, almost caused the ranger to drive right to Cassandra’s office and demand to know everything.  That is why he recommended the shooting anger management.  Evie just gave him an excuse.

“What do you think about Maya’s cousin?”  Nate questioned, putting his hands in his jean pockets.

Alistair shrugged.  “Definitely has the wrong impression of the Pox’s, especially Cullen.”

Nate kept a stolid face, but his mind turned over what that man said about Cullen’s previous relationships.  Hawke was not wrong.  The Pox’s might always remark Nate was the playboy, but Cullen had similar notches on his bedpost.  After Maya died, the man never kept a relationship.  Some locals theorized he still loved her after so long, but Nate figured it was guilt.  Was it because she was dead or that he broke her heart, Nate was not sure.  It was still a sore spot with Nate, so he did not allow himself to think about it.  He did find it peculiar that Hawke mentioned Cullen’s habits with such confidence beyond what happened in high school.  Furthermore, Cullen and Evie lived together now.  Both declared it was to save money and protect the house that winter, but Nate wondered if they were hiding something.

Yet another secret Nate did not know.

“If he can prove or disproved that skeleton is Revka, I welcome him.”  Nate admitted, determining how he might sit down with the man and find out what he knows.  “I want justice for Maya’s sake.”

Alistair’s eyes flicked to the drunk woman sitting on the bus.  “Will Evie see it like that though?”

Nate smirked.  “Yeah, just give her some time to accept it.  I wonder if she knew she was dating Maya’s cousin.”

The sheriff shrugged.  “From her surprise, no, she didn’t.  My question is did Hawke know Evie was Maya’s friend?”

“He seem to know Cullen somehow.”  Nate observed, remembering their exchange as the others slowly left the bar.

“Cullen was stationed in Kirkwall.  Apparently, Hawke was named Champion by the city-state for his actions to protect the populace.”  Alistair explained as he leaned on the fencepost again.  “Cullen told me driving over the guy was born in Lothering and fled Ferelden during the Blight.  He rose from destitution to being one of the wealthiest individuals in the city-state.  Hawke and Evie met independently of Hawke and Cullen.  None of them knew they knew one another until Cullen was moving back home.”

“Any other family?”

“A sister.  The rest are dead.”

Nate huffed, shaking his head.  “That seems like a recurring theme when discussing the Amells.”

Crunching rocks and kicked up dust pulled Nate’s attention away from the discussion to down the dirt road.  Within a few seconds, Alistair noted the upcoming vehicle.  Both men powerwalked towards the bus, their hands on their holstered pistols.  As usual, Evie was not aware of her surroundings, more interested in taking another swig from the tequila bottle.  Alistair pressed his body against the bus’ side, inching himself down until he view behind the vehicle at upcoming traffic.  Nate hopped into the driver’s seat and turned the key out of standby to kill the stereo. 

Evie slammed her foot against the roof.  “What gives!?”

“Company, Trev.”  Nate called out the open door.

“Yeah, someone stole my jeep.”  Alistair added from his position at the back.

Nate scrunched his brow and stepped out of the bus.  As stated, someone drove the sheriff’s Cherokee up the dirt road.  The driver slowed down and turned into a dirt spot by the bus where Nate’s mother’s garden used to be.  As Nate pivoted around the bus’ flat front, he noticed that iconic spiked black pixie hair he will love until his dying breath.

“It’s the girlfriend.”  Nate announced with a smile as Cassandra opened the driver door.

“Don’t you mean your fiancé?”  Alistair cooed from his position, he lowered his hand from his belt holster.  Nate threw him a look before returning his panicked gaze back to the Nevarran woman.  She was leaning over the center console away from the open door.  She mostly likely did not hear the remark.

Nate really needed to find out how if marriage was in the cards or not before his best friend ruined his relationship.

“He won’t do it.”  Evie hissed, hopping down from the bus’ roof.  She face-planted right into the dirt nearly breaking her liquor bottle.  “Ouch…”

Cassandra exhaled, realizing the drunk woman landed right where she needed to step out.  “Trevelyan, you already caused enough problems today.”

“I haven’t puked on your boots…yet.”  Evie eyed the seeker with a scowl.  “It’s your fault I am even drinking!”

“I doubt that…”  Cassandra muttered, extending her leg over the kneeling geologist.  She hopped over Evie and took a few steps towards Alistair.  “Cullen figured you would like your jeep back, Sheriff.”

Alistair shrugged.  “I guess.  I was planning on calling Aveline and telling her he stole it, but that’s a prank for another day.”  He waved his hand at the mumbling inebriated Free Marcher at their feet.  “I’ll just drop her off and make Cullen deal with her hangover.”

“I would advise against that.”  Cassandra warned, crossing her arms.  “I ordered him to take Hawke to the emergency room to see about his nose.  When I left the office, he was arguing with some Orlesian noble about people needing to feed their families.”

“If Hawke was at the ER that means Astrid knows what happened now.”  Alistair whined, rubbing his forehead.  “Maker, what a day.”

“Astrid probably pissed we kept her out of the loop.”  Nate added, causing Alistair to wince more.

“Alright, E-vers…”  Alistair leaned over and grabbed Evie’s arm.  “Time to go home and sleep it off.  Will you need a ride tomorrow, Cassandra, since you delivered the cruiser?”

The seeker shook her head no, stepping closer to Nate.  “I will just convince the park ranger here to drop me off.”

Alistair opened the back side door for Evie to crawl into the jeep.  “Good deal then.  Evie, give me the bottle.”

“Nooo…”  Evie muttered hugging the tequila bottle tightly.  Her voice sounded like a three year old told they had to leave their teddy bear at home.

“You can have it back when I drop you off.  I’ll put it in your purse.”

“B-but…” Nate noticed a few tears forming around her bright green eyes.  The boys had not got her to rant about what was bothering her.  Now, those feelings she was holding in threatened to spill out.  No, it was not just Hawke’s appearance that drove the woman into a bottle.

Yet another secret.

Alistair waved his hand out, and she handed the container to the sheriff.  She put on the seat belt and waited for her friend to close the door.  As soon as the door latched, she leaned against the bulletproof glass and sighed; her breath fogging up the window.  The sheriff sighed, meeting Nate’s concerned gaze.  “I’ll take care of her for a while until Cullen gets home.  She wouldn’t be Evie if she was not upset about something.”

“Good luck…”  Nate called as the sheriff started his vehicle.  Both Cassandra and Nate watched as the police cruiser turned around and drove back down the dirt road towards the main road.

Cassandra glanced up at Nate, studying his face closely.  “You all have fun?”

Nate pulled his black long ponytail a few times.  “Eh.  As you can see, the anger management did not work.”

“You all just cannot talk to each other, can you?”  His girlfriend remarked, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Naturally, Nate wrapped his arms around Cassandra and hugged her tightly.  She melted into his neck and hummed.  “Bullets talk just as well.”

“Ugh…”  Cassandra hissed, while rolling her big expresso eyes.

Nate smirked and kissed her forehead.  “Sounds like you need your own bullet therapy.”

“Long day.”  The seeker declared as her nose nuzzled his neck.  “What’s for dinner?”

Nate winced and slapped his forehead.  “Damn it.  The groceries are still in the back…”

“We can order take out from that Rivaini place.”

Nate grinned at his girlfriend.  “I know a good Nevarran place that’s real close.”

Cassandra lifted her head from his shoulder and frowned.  “There is Nevarran here?  Why haven’t you taken me?”

Instantly, Nate lifted the Nevarran up around the waist, his hands snaking under her tight black BDU pants.  He coaxed her feet around his body and carried her towards the open bus side door.  “Who said I wasn’t going to?”

The seeker blinked quickly, looking in all directions at what Nate’s intentions were.  She huffed once as he set her down on the back seat.  Her delicious brown eyes were as large as saucers.  The ranger’s hand clawed the inside of her pants to her groin until his nimble fingers worked her military belt loose.

“Nathaniel…!”  Cassandra whimpered as her cheeks turned a pinkish peach.

“I’m hungry for Nevarran…”  The ranger cooed into her ear as the buckle opened.  His hands worked her button and zipper quickly.  “I want to help you after such a long day, and there is no one around for miles to hear you unravel into my mouth.  Will you neglect me a taste of you?  I am starving, my Warrior Princess.”

“I…”  She was gasping, her mouthing gapping at his begging.  “Nathaniel…”

“Please?”

Cassandra threw her lips on his and refused to remove her hand from behind his head.  Typically, Nate liked to wear her down, romance her like he knew she loved.  However, he could not stop thinking about her since her call earlier.  Alistair’s little comment and seeing her worn face when she arrived brought his urges back to the surface.  From her twisting tongue down his throat, Cassandra needed him just as much.

Nate loosened her pants and quickly latched his thumbs around the pant seam and her underwear.  One tug toward the woman to stand enough for him to pull away the garments.  She compiled, moaning more into his mouth in anticipation.  The ranger removed her hand from around his neck and completely rolled the clothes to her boot ankles.  While grasping her ankles, he lopped himself with her pants caging him between her sprawled legs. 

Without any foreplay, Nate’s tongue licked her folds from her vagina to her peaking pearl, moaning with the long tongue lashing.  Cassandra groaned and allowed her back to rest against the long backseat; her fingers gripping the sides.  He took long slow laps up and down her folds, his grey eyes focused on the woman gapping in front of him at both lips.  Finally, his tongue lingered along her pearl, while his middle and ring fingers utilized her dripping to slide naturally inside her.  His long fingers immediately reached into her tight walls to the other bundle of nerves inside and flicked the spot just right.  Cassandra’s naked behind jumped on the seat with her gasping.  Her left hand left the bench seat edge and curled about his ponytail.  Her short nails dung into the black strains to his scalp like claws.  Nate slowed his lapping, smirking against her folds in such a way his chin tickled her short pubic hair.  She threw him a look of frustration and lust, nearly causing him to remove his own jeans.

Nate pushed against her clawing hand and blew cool air against her pearl only teasing her further.  Her juices dripped from his goatee.  “What do you want me to do, my Princess?”

Cassandra growled down at him, feeling the agonizing pace his fingers played in and out of her.  “More.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

_“More.”_

“Still so unclear…”

_“More!”_

Nate mouthed oh and dove right back into her pussy, lapping quickly against her pearl and quickening his fingers pace.  Her speech shifted to Nevarran, singing praises and urges.  When she slipped into her native tongue, Nate knew she was close.  He switched his mouth to her vagina, while his slick fingers resumed their assault on her pearl.  He wanted to swallow her orgasm.  Cassandra was slicker than any other woman he had ever been with.  There was no need for lube when they made love.  He enjoyed sucking up her juices or seeing the wet spot from her orgasm on his shirt or sheets.  Nate always measured his success by the puddle.

A few deep moans and hums passed through his lips into the seeker.  Her walls clinched his long tongue as she cried out the Maker and Andraste’s names in her explosion.  Her rear lifted from the seat as her back arched like a rainbow.  Every sense focused on the woman’s release as her sweet nectar dripped down his throat.  Nate realized then that not just sniping brought him calm, but when watched his lover fall apart around him, especially if he was only giving her oral sex.  Before, he used to be selfish with lovers, but not Cassandra.  He was soaring just seeing his success of making her split at the seams.

Cassandra must become his wife.

As the seeker slowly relaxed, her rear blushing like her face, Nate licked up the remains of her nectar from between her folds and around his chin.  He lifted his head, an eyebrow perked innocently.  “What a feast you gave me…”

Cassandra simply beamed down at him, crawling onto her elbows to see her lover better.  “Nathaniel…”

Nate placed his hands on either side of her bare hips and stared right into her glossy eyes:  

“ _Love is anterior to life,_

_Posterior to death,_

_Initial of creation, and_

_The exponent of breath._ ”[3]

Nate never truly enjoyed poetry, although its lyrics spoke like he did about himself:  enigmatic and filled with many meanings.  Since he met Cassandra, he learned her favorite sonnets and poems to repeat at special moments.  When he could not truly express himself, he searched the internet for poems that will convey his thoughts.  Since discovering he actually wanted to marry Cassandra, he spent his free time alone finding a poem that would ask her intentions.  He never found one that fit his feelings, but Emily Dickinson simply flowed from his throat still hydrated by Cassandra’s natural juices.  It was short and stated he wanted this romance to continue like a baby’s first breath to elderly death.

His girlfriend’s blush deepened before she gently grinned at him.  Her disheveled pixie hair was tossed to the side from her constant rubbing on the plastic seat cushions.  She cupped his cheek; her callused thumb following his jaw.  “Yes, I want only you.  I want us to grow old together completely.”

Nate was thankful her pants kept him trapped between her and the bus or he might fall over.  She felt the same.  This was not just a love, but something deeper and possibly forever.  New unimaginable images flashed in his eyes of a new house built to replace his childhood home.  Himself teaching his son how to shoot a bow and their daughter learning how to pin a man twice her size by his wife.

His wife.

Cassandra will be that wife, his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I do not have the rights to Ween’s “Ocean Man.” This song gets stuck in my head all the bloody time…
> 
> [2] Also don’t own the rights to Simon and Garfunkel’s “Cecilia” either.
> 
> [3] Emily Dickinson’s “Love is anterior to life.”


	17. Yellow Brick Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song(s): "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel & "Us and Them" by Pink Floyd  
> Check out the [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/thejeeperswife/playlist/1gkhLu4SsKek0ncNntVf26?si=H6tDnY08QXqbrJP_HXgD7g) for this novel!
> 
> Not one of my best written chapters, but I tried to clean it up as much as possible.

The old creaking wooden floor muffed the people whispering below.  Even if Astrid listened to their words, she would not register anyone in particular.  The old house was full with people dressed in black and serving homemade dishes to the mourning family.  None of them noticed the young woman walk up the stairs even with her clicking two-inch black heels.  None one stopped her from entering that bedroom alone.

Astrid’s mind conjured her image kneeling down by her single person bed.  Her wavy blond hair swooped over her shoulder as she replaced the maple floorboard back.  She did not know Astrid was present when she covered her secret compartment.  She gently pulled her flat footlocker back over the loose board.  Leaning back, her sky blue eyes noticed Astrid watching her closely.  A brief note of panic and fright crossed her face before the fear subsided.  She simply lifted her index finger to her pink lips and gentle blew.  _Shush._

With a blink, Maya’s skinny body and mischievous wishing for secrecy disappeared.  It left the mourning Astrid in an empty bedroom littered with Maya’s belongings, but no life.  Astrid glanced around, searching for the warmth and welcome that always greeted her every time she entered her friend’s space, but it was devoid of life and happiness.  Its warm glow typically provided by the afternoon sun and the nearby desk lamp was gone.  Dusk projected long dark shadows over the single-person bed, cold and dreary as the blizzard front wandered towards Haven.  When Astrid flicked the lamp switch, the bulb was burnt out.  The Cousland daughter stood in darkness.

Darkness consumed her soul.

Astrid hugged herself, pulling her pea coat close to her wool dress.  During the pyre burning, the wind kept blowing up her flowy skirt.  She shivered instead of allowing the tears to fall as the Andraste’s fire burnt her friend’s remains and sent her ashes to the Maker.  Now though, it was the chill in the dead room that brought the emotions back to the surface.  She did not sob, only sniffle to control her runny nose.  The tears barely made it to her jaw.  Astrid made sure to wipe them away quickly.  This was not the time to cry.  She had little time.

Astrid stepped forward and kneeled by Maya’s bed.  Her left hand batted the blue and pink flowered mattress cover aside, while she lowered her head to gaze into the darkness.  Her other hand felt into the black space, feeling for the footlocker.  It touched a pair of shoes, some rolled up socks, and a library book, but no footlocker.

With a quick glare, Astrid’s moon grey eyes flicked to the open door.  Her long black hair impaired her vision.  The muffled voices were the same pitches and tones, while dress shoes clapped against the living and dining room flooring on the first floor.  Still safe.  She gathered the hair strains in her palm and twisted it a few times to keep it together.  She tossed it back over her shoulder before searching again under the bed.

Finally her pinky brushed a leather box, the footlocker the Pox’s found at the old surplus store.  Maya wanted something to keep all her treasures from their grand adventures.  Alas, she received no allowance from her father, so the other Pox’s saved up their money gave it to her as a birthday present during sixth grade.  As Astrid pushed it aside, she thought of how heavy it was filled with geodes, fossils, photos, and other knickknacks from over the years. Maya had to be careful what she kept because her father was known to search her bedroom randomly to make sure she upheld their religious tenants and avoided sin.  The man broke the footlocker’s built-in lock the first search he performed after they gifted it to her.  Luckily, it was empty so there was nothing too incriminating.

Thus why that loose floorboard was so important.

Once the footlocker was pushed aside, Astrid’s long nails felt along the dirty boards for a space—an open knot in the wood—to slip her index finger in.  Her palm slid along the dust surface several times.  Astrid’s time was running out.  On the sixth pass, her finger slipped down and caught something.  She hooked her finger and pulled up.  The floorboard came too easily.  The young woman put it aside and quickly searched around in the space for her ultimate goal.  Alas for the acute angle, the bed’s low position, and the hole’s depth, Astrid could barely slip her hand inside.

Empty.

Damn.

Astrid reached as far as possible into the floor space barely up her forearm, but still felt nothing.  Her ears noticed an approaching set of heels down the hall.  Short heels for a short woman.  Only one person it could be coming.

Dashing, Astrid replaced the floorboard and shoved the footlocker back to the left.  By the time Revka Amell stopped at the bedroom door, Astrid stood with her hands cupped at the waist, singing the Chant of Light in the middle of the room.  Her back was to Maya’s mother, her hair combed out of the tangles with her dusty fingers she created just moments before.

“Astrid…?”  Revka called behind the senior.

Astrid kept her head down, allowing the tears to linger down her pale face.  Her moon grey eyes demonstrated her sadness.  “My apologies, Mrs. Amell.  I just wanted to pray here for just a moment.  I did not want to intrude though.”

Revka pursed her lips.  She shuffled towards Astrid.  The older woman’s hand brushed Astrid’s black long hair from her face before resting on her shoulder.  “No concerns, my dear.  After all, only you were allowed in here.  Mr. Amell always wanted the second floor for just the family, but Maya begged to have you sleep over or play up here.  He finally relented.  It meant the world to her to show you her bedroom.  I still remember her cleaning it and placing everything its rightful place before the first day you came over with your Barbies.  Oh, how I wished Mr. Amell allowed Evie too.  She would have enjoyed your games.”

Astrid smirked and sighed.  “I do not know about that.  Evie thought Barbies gave girls unrealistic body images.  She gave her dolls to Maya when a family member would gift her one for Satinalia.  I think once she smashed a Ken doll with a boulder after showing the boys an example of a eunuch.   I never saw Howe so frightful.”

Revka giggled, but did not smile.  Her loss weighed too much to show anything else but sorrow.  “Come, child.  It is not good to cry alone.  Let us mourn together downstairs.”  Her hand slid from Astrid’s shoulder to the small of her back, gently directing her out of the room and down the stairs.  The young woman knew the nudging was to have them escape before Mr. Amell saw someone upstairs without his permission.  He had gone out of his way to keep people out, even placing a black ribbon across the stairwell base.  Astrid relented and walked beside Revka out of Maya’s bedroom and downstairs, her mission foiled before completion.

Astrid never got another chance to search that hidden compartment again.

Until that night.

Eleven years later and armed with a flashlight, rope, and utility knife, Astrid stood outside the dilapidated Amell House just after 22:00.  She parked her Audi A7 a half mile away along an old access road no one else knew about unless they explored the surrounding farmland like the Pox’s.  The old road led to an old iron furnace built over an age ago.  Locals worked the iron mines and melted the iron ore on site.  Once the mine was abandoned, the old furnace and access road were re-absorbed by the surrounding forest just waiting for a small clan of children too curious for the own good to explore and climb the crumbling brick walls and kicking the old cauldrons over.  Astrid believed that place was either where Alistair broke his left arm the third or fourth time. 

The physician kept her war hound at home, but Maia the Mabari demanded to come with her.  The weaker hound struggled through the ticket, but she kept up with Astrid’s pace.  Maya reincarnated knew what her friend seeked after so long.  Since Cullen stated local Chantry officials were done investigating the residence, she knew this was her only opportunity to go back to retrieve the treasure.  If the skeleton was Revka Amell, that Chantry investigator who would be assisting Cassandra and will want to come back and more thoroughly review the area.

Astrid doubted her prize was found after Maya’s death or by the Chargers earlier last week.  If Franklin Amell never found the hiding space, no one could.  The strict father sniffed out anything impure like a wild mabari hunting for its evening meal. 

Maya got creative with her hiding spots, shifting them around her room constantly and after every search.  She learned little tricks from Nate when he shoplifted or sneaked around playing jokes on classmates.  Yet another reason why the boy was never allowed inside the household.  At least he could approached the porch without Franklin screaming about demons and sinners like he did when he saw Evie.  The Trevelyan would dance and sass along the cattle field about thirty yards away on public land about homosexual marriage, contraceptives, and abortions, three great sins that Franklin would slap even a little girl about.

That day at the beginning of their senior year, Astrid walked in on Maya hiding the treasure on accident.  Franklin was at Skyhold College for an evening graduate class, so normal announcement protocol was unnecessary.  Revka told the young woman where to find her best friend, stating they were having salmon for dinner and invited Astrid to join them.  When witnessing Maya shushing her friend to remain silent, Astrid smiled and nodded, both girls giggling like they were eight again.  Maya allowed Astrid to know her secret spot like she knew what would happen to her five months later.  The Amell senior knew her best friend would search for an explanation to her death even if things would decay so horribly beforehand.

  Astrid took a deep breath, feeling the last autumn air bite her lungs.  The evening dew already froze over the house’s broken windows and tall brown grass.  Her grey eyes glanced at her fellow interloper sitting to her left.  Maia kept shifting her paws, the cold ground caused her paws and joints to ache.

“Let’s go.”  Astrid declared, turning her flashlight on again and approaching the front door.  Maia followed behind as Astrid climbed onto the front porch.  The stairs were moldy and splintered after decades of harsh Haven weather.  Maia whined and used all her energy to jump up and follow.

Astrid observed the front door’s frame was busted recently, most likely by the Chargers.  The old farm door probably swelled and did not budge without some force.  Knowing that crew, it was Iron Bull’s horned head or buffy shoulder.  The Pox’s doctor was not a massive muscular Qunari, but one swift kick at the right place flung it open.  The Warden National Guard taught her well.  Immediately, dust sprayed into her face, sending Astrid into a coughing fit.  The woman was allergic to dust bunnies and pollen.  Her eyes watered as the particles inflamed everything.  She felt hives breaking out all over any exposed skin like she was infected with the Blight.  She used her coat sleeve to cover her mouth and protect her lungs.  She counted to thirty before reopening her eyes again.  The dust had settled enough to avoid further allergic reactions.  When she got home, she will need to take some Benadryl and a shower to avoid looking like a leper tomorrow morning.

Maia entered first, her toenails clicking against the hard surfaces in the foyer.  The hound walked with determination.  Her golden fluffy ears were forward, not sensing anything moving in the two-story house.  Astrid followed suit, partly relieved the mabari was not alert or wary.  That meant she can search quickly and leave before anyone knew someone trespassed.

The whole house looked dead and cold.  Revka had always kept it very clean and tiddy, so the layer of dust and cobwebs was a surprise.  Franklin repainted and re-wallpapered the house every three years, making sure it was bright and hospitable for visitors.  Although, very few people visited the house.  They held Chant studies, Sunday dinners there for fellow Chantry goers, and his religious study students.  But, Astrid wondered if his remodeling was for the family’s benefit…or to cover up what was actually happening inside the walls.

If that skeleton was Revka, Astrid would conclude the later assumption was truer than ever.

Astrid shined her flashlight at the stairs to her left.  She really did not want to step on them and hurt herself.  From the dozens of footprints dashed into the dust, it looked safe.  Only one or two boards had plywood laying over top from the Charger’s searching.  Still, the physician took each step upward gingerly.  Her weight did not have time to fully impact the wood, especially hearing the board splinter and creak with each step.  Franklin purposely kept the creaks so he knew when someone ascended or descended the staircase. 

Maker, what it must have been like for Maya to live in such a tense house.  Yet, her friend never said anything terrible always smiling and sweet.  Astrid did not know better as a child.  As a doctor she observed and treated domestic abuse, rape, and alcoholism in the emergency room.  It taught her what behavioral and cognitive signs people displayed when they felt unsafe.  Maya’s constant happy nature was a prime example of hiding fear.  She was meek and shy, but others perceived that as she did not know the world.  Her house was the only place she learned about the outside world until she went to school.  She watched everyone closely like they would transform into a demon.  It was only after spending time with the Pox’s that she experienced a true representation of life.  Even then, the group could not break her shyness.  Now, Astrid understood why:  Maya was withdrawn _not_ shy, too traumatized by her home situations to reach out to strangers and acquaintances.

Astrid kept chastising herself for not realizing how fearful her friend truly was.  Could she have saved Maya so much grief if she did not natively think every family was loving and caring as hers?  The Cousland Household had rules, but ones to protect from the most malicious.  There was a curfew, chores, and whatnot, but no breaking of privacy or someone wanting to know who and where you were in the house constantly like a GPS tracker or dog shock collar.  For someone like Maya, she only knew those stricter rules.  She did not know they were not unethical.

Shaking her head, Astrid hurried faster up the stairs.  Her temper and disgust for Franklin Amell’s actions and severity broke her resolve more easily than Astrid cared to admit.  Maybe Evie had the better approach after all.  Evie saw the father’s iron fist parenting as a negative.  However, by acting out and keeping her independence, she left Maya alone in that household.  However, was Astrid strict adherence to the father’s rules also a detriment?  It reinforced the strictness like it validated Franklin was in the right.  Could Astrid have stood up to that man like Evie bravely did?

The Cousland physician awoke from her mental debate to find herself already standing in Maya’s old doorway.  Maia had already entered the room, staring out the gabled window like she searched for other interlopers.  Astrid shook her head again, noticing then that her bun at the nape of her neck was coming undone.  She took a deep breath to bring herself back to why she was present.  Her mind and heart wanted to dwell on her mistakes and failures as Maya’s friend.  However, if she failed at retrieving what Maya did not mind Astrid seeing her hide that day so long ago, she really did deserve her self-scrutiny.

Scanning the floor with her flashlight, Astrid noticed that there were sun-bleached outlines on the floor beams.  She did not need to imagine or guess where Maya’s bed used to be because all the furniture placements were clearly defined, etched on the hardwood floors by time and UV rays.  Just as she remembered, Maya had a writing desk right of the doorway where she did her homework.  Two bookcases defined the nearest corner.  The roof slanted as Astrid’s eyes followed the far wall that Maya’s room shared with her brother Micah.  A chest sat at the end of her single-person bed.  An end stand sat right under the window beside where Maya laid her head every night.  A long waist-high dresser followed the wall to the door’s left.  Even the walls shared the outlines of where Maya hung her images of Andraste and mirrors.  Any pictures were hung in frames around the room in a mosaic style.

Unconsciously, Astrid’s hand brushed the lower outline of a photo frame that had all the Pox’s together.  Maya would update it every year with a photo taken the day before school started so it was always current.  When Maya died, Astrid asked Revka for the framed photo, knowing Maya kept all the previous years’ photos inside it.  When Astrid moved into her Haven plantation house, her first task was to find the perfect place to hang the frame.  Currently, it hung in her conservatory beside a potted oxalis, Maya’s favorite flowering plant.  _It is a clover you can keep inside, so you always have good luck no matter where you went_ , Maya would sing seeing an oxalis growing in a greenhouse.  Only Nate and Alistair noticed the framed photo in the room, mainly because they were the most likely people to come by the house.  Both men stood and stared at the photo frame for several minutes; a frown or a gentle smile displayed across their lips.

The doctor scolded herself again for standing around and reminiscing instead of getting to business.  With the bleached floors, she directed her flashlight right to where the bed used to be.  Unlike that day at the wake, the missing wooden knot was easy to distinguish.  For a brief moment, Astrid wondered if everyone else found the hiding spot just as easily, especially when the Amells moved away.  That terror disappeared when she kneeled and saw the built up grime and dirt surrounding the floor broad.  It make the wood hatch part of the floor and indistinguishable for any other board.  Hopefully.

Maia the Mabari trotted up to Astrid as she inserted her index finger into the knot and pulled up.  The wood creaked and moaned under the upward pressure.  It required several tugs to come up.  The years of humidity and swelling glued the board into place.  With one more tug, it popped up, splintering the sides and exposing the unvarnished maple wood.  Instantly, Astrid shined her flashlight into the small rectangular space for her prize.

Empty.

Well, not empty per say, but more missing the item the woman seeked.  Maya placed her more “sinful” items there:  Photos of her and Cullen kissing, specifically Maya without bra and shirt with Cullen taking the photo.  A large mischievous grin was plastered across her face as she gazed at the camera.  Astrid’s coal drawing of darker, depressing imagines when the woman went through a Goth phase in high school.  Carved rocks of the Elven Creators and Dwarven Paragons that Evie would buy and give as gifts while on family vacations.  If Franklin had found the idols, he was liable to kill both girls.  In true Nate fashion, he stole travel size bottles of Free Marcher spiked cream and Rivaini chocolate liquor for Maya.  Most were empty, meaning Maya spiked her drinks or took shots alone. 

The last items made Astrid giggled, knowing immediately they were Alistair’s.  Over their long friendship, one of the Pox’s would steal Alistair’s holed old socks.  It typically occurred after gym class when he would take his dirty clothes home to wash.  The joke would always leave the boy with only one good sock.  After a time, he ended up wearing different colors matches.  Alistair always accused Evie and Nate for stealing them, but it seem Maya was the culprit.  In the crawlspace, there were at least twenty holed socks at different stages of darning.  They displayed how much Alistair’s foot grew over the years.  Maya must has given up repairing them and just took the bad ones when Alistair refused to throw them away.

Astrid sighed and slapped her bent knees.  Where could it have gone?  Everything else was there, but not her prize.  It was then when Astrid watched Maia sniffing the floorboard.  She batted it a few times with her paw before looking up at the physician.  Astrid scrunched her nose, confused by the mabari’s fascination with the hatch.  She watched again Maia nuzzle the floorboard.  There was something curious about it that kept the animal’s attention.

Picking up the wood, Astrid studied the plank, confused by its importance.  She studied the dullness and even sniffed it to see if it was different.  She sneezed once the dust tickled her nose.  Astrid dropped it, skipping off her lap and rest upside down on the floor by the compartment.  It was then the woman realized there was something cream on the other side.  Astrid grasped the plank again and pulled it up to her face.  Old masking tape held a strip of yellowing paper to the wood.  It had peeled around the edges, but the small light cursive was still very pronounced.  Astrid knew it was Maya’s handwriting, soft and flowy like her heart and soul.

_Follow the Yellow Brick Road_.

The first movie Maya ever saw in the theaters was _The Wizard of Oz_.  The old local theater in downtown Haven was playing it for its sixtieth anniversary.  The Pox’s all went together.  They used their month’s allowance on tickets and candy.  What the group did not know was that the showing would not be playing the audio, but Pink Floyd’s _Dark Side of the Moon_.  Both medias played perfectly together. 

The group did not know that was Maya’s first movie until afterwards.  She thought it was supposed to be like that.  Astrid felt so guilty that the experiences was ‘ruined’ for Maya, she invited her over to her house to watch it properly.  The two girls watched again that evening.  Maya winced and huffed at the musical.  _It was better the first time_ , Maya declared once it was over.  _Still, I now know why they were fussing over the road.  I love that color yellow, especially with ‘Us and Them’ and ‘Any Color You Like’ playing in the background_.  After that day, Maya enjoyed wearing golden mustard yellow.  It brought out her light blonde hair and deep blue eyes.  If she found a summer dress in yellow, she would buy it without thinking and if it emptied her wallet.

Astrid replaced the flood board back into its slot after removing the treasures.  She stuffed the belongings into her empty satchel.  The other Pox’s will get a kick out of all the items when Astrid tells them.  She worked quickly to get going.  She knew where to go now.  The mother hen knew where the prize was now.

Maia followed quickly behind Astrid as she skipped down the stairs and out the front door.  She jumped off the tall porch, nearly injuring her ankle on a rock below.  She stumbled and balanced herself before pushing through the tall grass and rounded the house.  She did not know why she felt like she had to run, but she did.  Maia took the path Astrid mowed through the weeds until both beings were in the backyard.

Astrid skidded to a stop, glancing right at the back porch.  It had collapsed, its roof blocking the back entrance into the house.  Flicking her eyes and flashlight left and down, she could barely see the red bricks through the overgrown hay.  Following the path with the light, Astrid found the end where an old large maple tree towered over the backyard.  The chicken coop and shed had also imploded over time, but somehow the old tire swing attached to a thick maple branch still hung.  The rubber had melted and froze in the harsh Haven climate to the point it was a marquis shape.

The physician slowly approached the tree, scanning the backyard for any wild animals or signs someone found her trespassing.  Maia patted behind her, following her through the ticket until both creatures stood a few feet by the tire swing.  Astrid knelt, batting away dried leaves and broken branches.  Each toss of her hand, bits of yellow picked out until the set of nine painted bricks were visible.

Over the years, the tire swing dug a ditch into the ground that would always create mud puddles after heavy rains.  To stop the children’s feet digging the ditch deeper or going into the house with muddy shoes, the Pox’s buried the bricks and piled dirt around them to keep them in place.  Every spring, Maya painted the bricks yellow to establish her own yellow brick road.  _I feel like I am blasting off to another land!_   She would sing as Cullen pushed her harder and higher in the tire swing.  Nate and Evie would sneak into the yard and play with the others.  Nate would leap off the tire to see how far he could land…or break his neck.  Evie climbed the tree and hid with Alistair, challenging him to touch the top.  All the while, Astrid would draw the group while stilling in the mowed grass, smiling happily.

Astrid pulled out her utility knife, selecting the leather hole-punch.  She wiggled the punch around the bricks, slowly loosening the soil and dirt that had started to freeze in the cold autumn night temperatures.  She scraped and shoveled as much debris away until one brick wiggled in place.  Maia the Mabari joined her pawing the ground around an adjacent brick until Astrid’s fingers could slip in between and pull it out.  In the process, she broke a nail, wincing in pain as it bent backwards.

Removing the brick, the woman shined her flashlight into the hole.  Worn dirty plastic shined back at her.  The item was bigger than the one brick space she created, so she began digging out another brick.  After almost breaking another nail and ruining her utility knife, she freed another brick.  The plastic was a wrapped bundle sealed with duct and packing tape tightly.  Astrid smiled, seeing the care Maya spent to secure the item.  Astrid pulled it, dusting off the lingering dirt and dust tarnishing the plastic.  It was book shaped, as it should be-

-Maya’s diary.

However, through the plastic Astrid could see this was a different diary than the one she saw Maya hide their senior year of high school.  Maya was an avid writer.  If she was not reading a new book, she was writing poetry or jotting down environmental observations.  In middle school, Astrid and she attempted to make a comic book, but quickly stopped after seeing how difficult it was.  Most like, this was not Maya’s senior diary.  Possibly an earlier journal.  Astrid scrunched her nose.  Maybe this book had a clue where her senior writing was so Astrid can finally discover what happened to Maya before the car accident.

A car door pulled Astrid from her thoughts.  Maia growled as the physician quickly placed the bricks back into place.  She fluffed the grass and quickly dash behind the fallen chicken coop.  Maia followed behind, her patting more intense than before.

“We shouldn’t be here, Hawke…” a rough Free Marcher accent called from the front of the house.  Astrid took a deep breath and hid herself in shadow.  Two flashlights flickered and waved from the old driveway.  Their glimmer reminded Astrid to turn hers off or feared detection.

“We used to do this kinda thing all the time, Varric.”  A grizzly bass voice boomed.  “Remember when we broke into the old Amell mansion and Fenris’ foster asshole’s house?  This is nothing.”

“You can just say your name in Kirkwall, and no one would bat an eye.  Here…”  Varric replied, pivoting in a circle.  “You are kinda of pariah.”

“The only pariah here is Cullen Rutherford and his damn friends.”

Astrid bit the inside of her cheek.  She knew who the other person was now.  She had only seen him from a distance when Cullen brought him into the emergency room earlier that day.  When Astrid reported to triage, she found a grizzly bearded man holding napkins and paper towels to his nose and Cullen with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You’re doing?”  Astrid asked, pointing to the patient.  She meant to be humorous.

Instead, the patient laughed once and snarled.  “Your abuse precedes you, Templar…”

Astrid was about to punch the man himself.  How dare he slander her best friend?!  Before Astrid could respond, Cullen touched her shoulder and pointed out the door.  “Evie’s fiery.”  Astrid’s blank face hid her admiration for her short-tempered best friend.  One thing about Evie was that she never let someone say something horrible without a fist in the mouth.  “You have someone who can treat him?”

“I will-“

Cullen cut her off.  “I have a wound I would like you see instead.”

Astrid’s moon eyes flicked back at the patient.  Did this man harm Cullen?  Maker, and Evie only _punched_ him?!

“Yes…”  Astrid gritted through her teeth.  “Let me get Anders.  Follow me.”

Both friends entered the emergency room main nursing area.  Anders was at a computer, typing some notes from his previous patient.  He grinned up at Astrid as she and Cullen approached.  “Anders, there is a man whose met Evie’s fist earlier.  It seems to be a broken nose.  Do you mind seeing to him?”

Her colleague smiled and nodded.  “Of course.  It’s been awhile since I set a broken nose, but I’ve completed my share in Kirkwall.”  Cullen groaned as Anders headed to triage.

The commander grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled her towards a linen closet away from the other patients and hospital staff.  “What?  Cullen!”  He did not stop pulling her until both people were inside and the door was closed.  Astrid crossed her arms and glared at the mad man.  “What in the world has got into you?!”

“That man is Garrett Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall.  Eve and he used to date, and he is in town to provide DNA in the skeleton case.  He is related to Revka Amell.”

Astrid blinked a few times.  She tried to absorb all the information, but all that repeated in her scattered mind was that man’s snide comment about Cullen.  “That’s Revka’s next of kin!?  And Evie dated him?!  Why didn’t she tell us!?”

“I don’t think she knew.”  Cullen exhaled, running his hand through his tossed hair.  “Maker, I didn’t know they were related until today, and I worked around the guy for almost a decade.”

“You two know each other from Kirkwall?”  The physician questioned, realizing Cullen was shaking and sweating.  His steroid withdrawal was bothering him.

“And not in a good way.”  The command grunted.  “Apparently, the town—meaning Varric—has be blabbing about the Pox’s and Maya.  He knows about Maya and I, and Hawke very much does not like the Pox’s.”

Astrid rubbed her forehead.  “Why?!  We were her friends.  We loved her.”

“Well,” Cullen sighed, massaging his neck.  “Apparently, he’s only thinking about the last few months before her death.  It won’t take him long to learn you are a Pox, and I didn’t want him to accuse you of malpractice or something.  It’s bad enough Alistair threatened him at the bar.”

Now Astrid was floored.  “Alistair threatened someone?!  Why were you all at the bar?  Why didn’t you call me?!”

Cullen groaned and tossed his hair again.  “When I found out from Cassandra who was the next of kin, Alistair and I rushed to the Singing Maiden.  I had a feeling Eve might end up there after everything this morning.  She had already stopped at Merrill’s for some elfroot.  I _told_ you she isn’t well.  Drinking and smoke in the middle of the day!”

Astrid dismissed his Evie observation at the moment.  She needed to focus on this Hawke person.  “She punches him for…?”

“His existence, I guess.  You know her fiery, especially regarding something like cheating.”  Cullen took a deep breath and started pacing.  “And I shouldn’t have told Cass to call Nate.  He came in there with a chip on his shoulder and about to snipe the sonofabitch from a mile away.  Alistair was lighthearted until Hawke started throwing insults my way.  Luckily, Hawke is not pressing charges, and I offered to pay the medical bill.  He said no, but I still brought him here.  You’re the only Pox he doesn’t know by face yet.  That won’t last long.  I wanted to save you from his ire before you bitch-slapped him.

“I wouldn’t have slapped him.” Astrid grunted through her teeth.  “I would have asked the nurse to shave him stem to stern and do a prostate exam, while successfully explaining why those procedures were necessary for a broken nose.”

“ _Please_ , Astrid.”  Cullen begged with both large hands on her shoulders.  “Leave him alone.  You are the most level minded of us all.  I need your help keeping the others in line while this investigation is going on.  He can snoop through rumors and whatnot, but we must cross our T’s and dot our I’s on this one.”

Astrid knew that dark look in Cullen’s amber eyes.  His shaking was stress, but also something else.  “You’re afraid of him.”

“Not him specifically…”  The commander admitted as his scarred lip jumped a few times.  “It is what he knows…about me specifically.  I’ve not been a good man, Astrid.  You’ve see my body, but not what that did to my mind.  I…I am not proud of what I was then.  I was in darkness and did heinous things.  I don’t want the others to know, especially Eve.”

“This deals with your PTSD…”  Astrid concluded, looking away.  She thought for a moment before staring into his eyes.  “Then jump ahead of him.  Tell everyone.  Tell Evie!  Don’t let us find out from him or this damn town.”

Cullen pinched his nose and swayed.  “It’s not that simple.  Please, Astrid.  Take my word for it.  I will figure this out.”

“Don’t wait too long, Cullen.”  The physician warned, placing her cool hand on his sweaty cheek.  “Because if you do, you might lose everything you care about.”

The flickering flashlights from the two new arrivals pulled Astrid back out of her thoughts.  From the people’s movements through the thicket, they enclosed on the house.  Astrid looked the other direction, wondering if she escape while they were in the house.

“It looks like the investigators left the front door open.”  Hawke called studying the door.  “Do they want the whole arling in there or something?  Trying to taint the crime scene?”

Varric ignored the slant more focused on the porch’s height.  “I’m not going to get up there easily, Hawke.”

“I can toss you up.”

“No one is tossing anyone…”  Varric huffed, flashing his light around the house. 

Hawke laughed once.  “That’s what he said.”

Varric exhaled, face-palming.  “I walked into that one…Maybe there is a backdoor with some actual stairs.”

Astrid gritted her teeth.  She was afraid to move in the shadow even to put Maya’s diary in her satchel.  She listened carefully, but her bun kept unraveling so small hairs tickled her cheek.  This was turning into a cliché movie scene.  Maia must have read her mind and whined her sympathy.

“So, did Monkey ever know about you being an Amell?”  Varric asked as the two friends followed around the side of the house.  “She seemed to shit herself hearing it.”

“I never told her.”  Hawke grunted through his broken nose.  From the sound, Anders must have put some medical tape and cotton up his nostrils to stop the bleeding and keep it in shape.  “When she said she lost a friend in high school, and her name was Maya, I didn’t know it was my cousin.  It was when she was drunk she told me her last name.  I asked my mom later about it.  She said it was her cousin’s daughter.  She had only heard about the family’s deaths after we reclaimed the family fortune.  By then, this branch of the family was already dead.”

“Bummer.”

Astrid squeezed her moon eyes close.  Her ears attuned that the dwarf and human were nearly in the backyard.  However, Astrid wanted to just run away and lecture Evie.  That man knew about the Pox’s from her, not just from Haven’s residents.  She shared a great deal about their friendship with this man without knowing his own connection.  Evie typically did not slip up like that, always too overprotective and mistrusting to share herself with anyone.

Hawke admitted the fire cracker told him when she was drunk.

Of all times to think about Cullen’s concern, Astrid wondered if Evie’s alcoholism was more than just about finding the skeleton.  She was at the bar today to drink after getting medical elfroot.  The physician knew where that resulted from, but it was clear her friend neglected to tell her new roommate.  Furthermore, Astrid could not think of a time since Evie moving back that she was not drinking, maybe say working.  Astrid winced, regretting she did not see the issue sooner.

“I just can’t believe that my cousin dated that douchebag…” Hawke growled, stopping in front of the back porch.  “Nope, no way up here either, Varric.”

“Don’t you think you were pretty harsh with Curly?”  Varric questioned, shining his light around the yard.  “I mean, the guy is completely different here.  He stopped lyrium and saves people lost or injured.  He is doing good things here.  I still can’t get used to him laughing when he and his friends visit the Maiden.”

“They must not know him like I do.”  Hawke kicked the depilated porch before noticing the work shed.  “Maybe there’s an axe or something in there to help you up.  It seems in that douche’s fashion to hide his under doings.  He didn’t see them as wrong before.  He got off scott free when he left the Order.  He can ‘atone’ all he wants, but it won’t erase the fact he beat women and took children away from their families.”

Beat women?  Separated children from their families?  Cullen?!  _Cullen Stanton Rutherford?!_

“You know that was Meredith, right?”

“You didn’t see him arguing otherwise.”

Astrid wanted to be gone.  She was done hearing this.  She knew Cullen should tell everyone everything before this man stated otherwise.  The doctor shifted her left boot and snapped a twinge.  She froze.

“You hear that?”

“Yup.”  Hawke pulled out his revolver.  “We’re not alone.”

Astrid could hear the safety click off and Hawke rack the hammer.  She was going to get shot while trespassing.  They will uncover Maya’s journal and the Pox’s hidden items.  She will never know what happened to her beloved friend.

Right as the two was only a yard away from the chicken coop, Maia dashed out and barked.  Astrid nearly screamed, afraid the men would shoot her furry friend.  Alas, she covered her mouth and squeezed her moon grey eyes shut.

“Maker’s balls!”  Varric hollered, stumbling and fell over.

Hawke unhammered the revolver.  “A mabari?!  Oh!  You’re a pretty one.  I’ve never met one with such long golden hair!”

Varric mumbled, “You Fereldans and your mutts.”

Maia pranced and growled, stepping on twinges and making noise.  Astrid realized the hound was giving her a chance to run while the men were distracted.  However, what about Maia?  She would not leave that old war hound alone.  Astrid bravely checked around the chicken coop.  Maia’s tail danced and pointed every which way.  Every once in a while, she saw Maia’s blue eyes shine back at her.  _I’m okay.  I will meet you at the car_.  They seemed to say.

In a dash, Maia took off running and barking towards the front of the house.  Hawke followed behind.  “Come on, Varric!  She’s trying to tell us something!”

Varric stood back up and slowly walked away towards the front porch.  “Because you Fereldans think they are so smart.  Sheesh.”

Astrid took off running out over the field towards the old access road.  She will wait for Maia before turning on the car.  She was not leaving her friend behind.  She already failed Maya once.  She will not do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Wizard of Oz" and "Dark Side of the Moon" mix occurs about once a year in my hometown when the movie's anniversary rolls around. When I was a kid and teen, my friends and I would go down to the main street's old movie theater and watch the combo every year. Some of the best times of my life. Besides, Pink Floyd is the shit! According to my parents, I would only nap when my parents blasted the albums "Dark Side of the Moon", "The Wall", and "The Division Bell." I will play them all for my kids too. Good ole rock.
> 
> Furthermore, my husband hates anything and anyone connected to Genesis, specifically Phil Collins. I love him and Genesis. That also means he hates Peter Gabriel. When I'm pissed with him, I blast all three music groups/persons throughout the house to signal he has invited my fury. I want "Mercy Street" played at my wake (when that happens when I'm one hundred). Love that song.
> 
> ALSO GREAT READERS!: If you all can do me a favor? Can you please take this quick [survey](https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/NZK9RQC) for me? I am trying to figure out what people want more of and how to use my writing time wisely. Thank you!


	18. Closed Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone! MYBF passed 1000 hits this past week. Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Open Heart" by Morgan Page featuring Lissie (Acoustic Remix)  
> (I do not own this song or the lyrics presented in this chapter.)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual assault, torture, and physical abuse towards women.

Cullen did not get back to Evie’s townhouse until 22:00.  He was exhausted, irritated, and depressed after such a stressful day.  The day’s events exacerbated his withdrawal to the point he just wanted to drill his brain with a power tool just to feel a different type of pain.  Even then, it would be difficult to distinguish which anguish was which because of the multiple complaints and languages hounding him that still rung in his head.

The commander thought his day would simply be paperwork and some phone calls.  That should have been his first clue.  Evie’s spat that morning was just the beginning of a non-stop Void.  If Cullen had seen the signs sooner, he would have just gone back to bed and refuse to leave until the world ended.  Instead, he spent the day stopping his best friend from beating up the Champion of Kirkwall, taking said ex-boyfriend to the emergency room, and fighting Orlesians who felt the Chantry should have more control over _their_ workers and poor populations within the Frostback Mountains.

Surana hopped off the couch and plotted towards her owner.  She stretched and bent her legs and body all directions like a cat, demonstrating she had been asleep for a while.  Cullen figured at least one of them had a lazy day around the house while the other slaved away.  He knelt by his hound, scratching Surana’s head before untying his boots.  Her stomach was a little wider and hung more off her ribs and hips.  Her litter of puppies growing inside her womb almost wore her out more than what Cullen dealt with that day.  The key word was ‘almost.’  Even Surana would find Orlesians more agonizing than puppy pregnancy.

Kicking off his dress boots at the door, Cullen meandered into the kitchen, flew open the refrigerator, and grabbed the last beer bottle from his store run last Friday.  He had purposely hid it behind the spoiled milk and old eggs so he had an emergency brew after a horrific day.  Popping off the bottle cap and flinging the paint opener back on refrigerator top, the overworked man proceeded to chug the fermented barley and yeast until half the contents were gone.  Cullen only stopped gulping because he heard someone strumming a guitar towards the backyard. 

  _“If you need to take time,_

_When you make up your mind, I will be here._

_You don’t have to hide or keep it all inside,_

_I’m always near.”_

Cullen lowered the beer bottle from his lips and exhaled.  When Alistair texted earlier about dropping off his roommate and could not stay, Cullen believed Evie would just go to sleep after her day-long drinking binge.  The sheriff told him she polished off most of a tequila bottle by herself while he and Nate played rifle HORSE.  The geologist always hit a tequila wall and fell asleep into a long drunk coma after such binges.  However, Cullen knew that crisp beautiful vocal and guitar anywhere.  Instead of stop drinking, Evie just came home, continued the tequila shots, and was drunk enough that she was a great singer.

Astrid might think Evie did not have a drinking problem, but the more Cullen witnessed over the last few weeks, specifically today, the more sure his friend needed an intervention.  Yet, Astrid’s easy solution kept rolling around in his booming skull:  tell her about your own addiction problems.  If anyone could show Evie she had a problem it was another addict.  However, he felt like he was the pot calling the kettle black.  For years, he never admitted he had a problem until he saw what it did to his Kirkwall commanding officer.

Cullen glanced at the half empty beer bottle in his hand.  By drinking too, he was giving the geologist an excuse.  Furthermore, his therapist would state he was replacing one depressant with another.  He would just remark was for only social purposes.  No, Cullen knew the difference.  He prayed he did.  So, he finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling.  He will not just buy anymore until Evie recognizes her mounting problem.  Astrid was right though he could not just tell her to stop.  She was a woman who did the exact opposite when given restrictions.

 Slowly meandering to the back of the duplex’s first floor, Cullen’s templar senses focused on the angelic voice.  Even with the back door closed, he could tell she was playing and drinking on her third floor back patio.  He smirked, thinking about the Orlesian professor next door dialing the police about the noise and receiving the cold shoulder from the sheriff’s office. 

Still, it was getting cold as the late autumn evenings dropped below forty degrees.  Evie never acclimated to colder temperatures, always complaining as a kid about how the Pox’s Fereldan members could roll in the snow practically naked, while she was under ten layers of wool and still freezing her nipples off.  Alcohol furthers lowers a person’s body temperature despite making said person feel warm.  Cullen should get her to come inside.

By the time he reached the backdoor and slowly opened it, the musician continued into the song’s chorus:

_“I try so hard to write it all out,_

_You work so hard push it all down._

_You keep your heart (You keep your),_

_Open Heart (Hidden in the dark),_

_Open Heart (Afraid that it’ll break apart)_

_Open Heart, I think that you should start,_

_To have an open heart…”_

Cullen froze, his hand wavering over the screen’s door sliding handle.  He squeezed his amber eyes shut, listening to Evie’s passionate voice singing to the stars this sorrowful song.  Out of all her emotional expressions today, it was these lyrics and intense guitar strumming that established her true internal feelings.  Evie hid behind her anger and sassiness to disguise the depression lingering under her skin.  Yet, singing and music playing leaked the true expressions through those facades, giving the blond Fereldan a small glimpse to what truly bothered his best friend.  Maybe he will not ask her to come inside.  Maybe if he listens and watches through the screen door, he will discover what truly bothered her.

The ex-templar’s whiskey eyes watched through the third floor’s wooden porch boards the female form strumming an old guitar.  A single large candle burned on a wooden patio stand beside her, highlighting the woman’s figure in the darkness.  A few nats and autumn bugs swarmed around her head.  Evie’s bare feet were flung on the industrial metal railing, while leaning far back in her old wooden rock chair.  She had changed into bangy t-shirt that seemed familiar to Cullen and a pair of old flannel sleep shorts.  That Free Marcher must be cold.

Evie’s auburn waves were down, air dried, and frizzy after probably a quick shower when she got home from the Nate’s gun release.  Her cheeks were bright red and swelled, while her bright green eyes were sunken in and bruised.  Her attention focused on her playing, swaying and bobbing her head with the lyrics and chords.  Between each stanza, she took a shot of tequila, only momentarily stop performing to swallow and refill her shot glass.

Cullen recognized the song after a day working a week or so ago and Evie had a day off.  Evie respected his request to not play anything too loud in his presence.  So, she waited until he was gone to blast her music.  Yet, she always played the same Spotify playlist labelled, _No._   As soon as Cullen would arrive through the front door, the woman would hastily turn it off and hide the application displayed on the stereo system, her horrible attempt to hide the playlist from Cullen’s vision.

It was such small actions that Cullen figured out right then Evie was trying her best to hide stuff from her best friend.  Everyone deserved some privacy, but Evie attempted to use or play specific things that she never wanted to explain or divulge to her new roommate.  Over the last month, he realized he truly did not know this amazing friend who opened her house and life to take care of him.  Yet, he offered no explanations himself or the same sweet courtesy to her.

No wonder Evie hissed about his drinking remarks today.

The Fereldan rubbed his eyes, witnessing briefly his roommate removing her feet off the banister and leaning forward.  Her voice carried into the starry night like a nightingale calling to anyone awake to listen and respond.  He knew he should have not told Astrid about her drinking.  He should have observed more before introducing the mother hen to Evie’s internal turmoil.  The woman just wanted to keep her inner demons inside just like Cullen.  Cullen and Evie were very similar, trying to deal with their regrets and shame alone, too scared about what others will believe and say.

Cullen’s attention zoomed to the woman strumming the guitar.  The playing intensified as Evie reached the song’s climax:

_“Cover, there’s not cover to blow._

_No game to play,_

_No undertow, I’ve been told._

_You keep your-_

_Open heart…”_

Maker, this song was so heart-wrenching.  From what Cullen could discern, it was someone who waited patiently for their love interest to open their heart.  Yet, this observer saw how wounded and scared they were to give into love.  Which person did Evie believe she was, if that was the case?  Evie believed lyrics spoke for the person’s soul.

For all the years Cullen knew her, Evie never gave her heart easily to anyone.  Just look at Garrett Hawke!  She told him a year ago that she had not loved him, thus why she never slept with the Champion.  Yet, here she called into the Haven night about opening one’s heart and waiting for said person to respond.

Evie felt alone.

She yearned for love.

There was someone she cared for, yet will never say anything out of great respect.

A wave of envy flowed through Cullen.  He should not feel that way, but he could not help it.  Evie cared about someone.  Who?  Hawke?  Maker, no.  She wanted to kill that bastard.  Who?  Any person his best friend knew was not worthy of her affections.  (Cullen knew Evie was demisexual, a person who was more invested on the personal connection she had with an individual than to dwell on their gender status.)  Although, it was unfair for Cullen to right off anyone in Evie’s circle just because _he_ did not approve of any of them.  Furthermore, Evie kept most people beyond the Pox’s at arm’s reach.  She even hid this from Cullen for some reason.

The ex-templar rubbed his aching eyes again.  Cullen was over thinking all of this.  He was reading into signs that were just his imagination.  In his attempts to minimize these irrationality, Cullen’s gut still stung at the prospect of Evie wishing for someone specific.  He should be happy for her, if this was all true, yet he could not.  Maker, Cullen was a cad.

Evie finished the last chords, dropping her right hand down to side.  The guitar nearly fell from her lap.  Cullen heard the most gut-wrenching sob.  Singing was replaced by a hollow great sorrow that Evie unleashed while horrifically drunk.  The steel walls around her emotions cracked and collapsed as she laid the guitar down and wept.  Through the wood slates, Evie held herself and rocked back and forth, oblivious that someone witnessed her meltdown.  With each rocking, a new scream or stream of tears flowed from her shut eyes.  Never in their long friendship had Cullen heard such wailing from his best friend.

No, Cullen was right about his assumptions.  The song was a glimpse into Evie’s anguish.  She cared about someone, yearned for their love but somehow knew that person will never reliant.  Evie drank to quench the rejection.  She cried alone so no one else will know her personal burdens.  That bastard or wench should feel a million needles for eternity for making her suffer in such purgatory.

If reviewing the last few months, Cullen concluded too many events compounded on Evie’s heart and soul.  She found potentially her best friend’s mother murdered down in a cave.  Her ex-boyfriend was related to said best friend and haunted her life once again.  She nursed her best friend fighting lyrium addiction openly without batting an eye.  In all of this Void, she held a great yearning that she felt she could not share with those who she called friends.  Maker, Evie’s constant drinking was understandable now.

The ex-templar pulled out of his thoughts realizing Evie’s sobs declined, a little of her personal pain leaked out and cooled at the moment.  She turned her waist towards the candle and patio stand, grabbing a rectangular object nearby.  Cullen could not tell what now laid in her lap, only that the woman petted it and stared at the top.  Evie shook and bit her lower lip like she was contemplating something.

Before Evie could make a decision, Surana barked at Cullen’s feet.  The pregnant hound sat and allowed her tail to bat the screen door.  He had not realized his mabari had been watching him spy on his best friend for a good five minutes.  The commander glared at his war hound begging to go outside.  She kept on waddling her bum like she was about to poop on the tile floor.  Cullen’s attention quickly flicked above him outside to see Evie scrambling to wipe away her tears and clean up her drinking binge.

Panicked that his best friend might discover he was watching her like a creep, Cullen closed the back door, raced to the front door and slipped his boots back on like he just came home.  Surana continued to whine and bark by the back door, glaring at her master for not allowing her out.

“Give me a second, Suri!”  Evie’s voice echoed off the townhouses’ multiple staircases.  “I’ll let you out.  You piss more than Cullen after a few beers…”

Cullen’s scarred lip jumped a few times.  Well, she was right about that one.  Once Cullen’s drinking seal was broken, he had to urinate every five minutes.  The last time Evie visited him in Kirkwall before he retired from the templars, the two friends bar crawled through Lowtown.  Cullen marked at least five alleys in their stumbling back to Evie’s hotel room.   He had to steal Evie’s phone because she kept trying to take a photo of him break the law and send it to the police…or to the other Pox’s.

Thundering footfalls rang down the stairs until Evie’s haggard appearance arrived on the final landing.  It faced the front of the house.  Her bright green swollen eyes locked on Cullen, surprise and fear imprinted across her red cheeks.  In her left hand was a wooden rectangular box with engravings.

Cullen’s mind flashed back to Evie’s contemplation a few minutes before.  This was what she gently caressing while making a deep decision.  His mind flickered back to that morning seeing his best friend leaving that same box on the kitchen island.  Actually, that wooden box was never more than five feet from Evie if she was home.  What in the Maker was that thing?!

“Hey.”  Cullen waved, half guiltily smirking.  He slowly undid his boots again.  “I was about to let her out until I heard your voice.  Thought you might be asleep…”  The commander lied, hoping it would cover his invasion of privacy since arriving home.

Evie shrugged, slowly meandering down the last flight of stairs.  “She has been practically living outside the last few hours.  I thought I would fall asleep, but I did not want her to piss everywhere.”  By then, Evie was on the first floor, rounding the staircase towards the now shut back door.  “I was on my landing porch and heard her barking somehow.  I thought this was soundproof glass.”  Her hand referenced the back door.

The ex-templar winced.  She wondered how she heard Surana despite being outside and the mabari inside.  The woman could observe anything, Cullen swore.  “Sorry to hear she’s been a pain…”  Cullen finished taking off his boots again and slowly approached Evie.  She opened the back door and slid the screen aside.  Surana zoomed outside and quickly found a spot to pee. 

“Nah.  No worries.”  Evie kept her face away from Cullen, using her long bangs and flowing loose curls to disguise her crying feast.  “Not even tequila can knock me out right now…”  She scowled at him through her hair.  “And don’t you _dare_ make a remark about my drinking.”

Cullen ran his hand through his broken waves and sighed.  He massaged his tight neck and shoulder muscles, ashamed by his actions that day.  “I owe you an apology.  My remarks were rude and said in haste.  I just…know addiction well with my own issues, I just did not want you to fall into the same hole.”

Evie exhaled, leaning on the back door frame.  Her light tanned face turned away and watched Surana finish her nightly relief.  “I am fully aware I shouldn’t rely on drinking to forget problems.  However, my anti-depressants and other coping tools fail to handle anything.”

Cullen blinked shock.  His callused hand fell from his neck.  She was on anti-depressants?  Maker’s breath, Cullen knew nothing about Evie now.  Yet, she invited him into her home to care for _him_ , not for herself.  Why did he not notice this before?!

Evie rubbed her eyes with her right.  “Forget what I just said.  I’m brown-out drunk right now.”  She turned away and swiftly passed Cullen.  She slammed the engraved box down on the kitchen island, while she rushed for a glass of water.  “I’m talking out of my ass.”

Cullen observed her closely.  Her hands shook.  Her puffy eyes under her bangs shifted everywhere like she was waiting for a monster to emerge out of the darkness.  The commander could not let this rest.  Now that he was aware of her suffering, Cullen had to do something.

“You know I am always here for you.”  The ex-templar’s baritone voice rang through the dark first floor.

Evie frozen in the kitchen, slowly lowering the glass of water from her lips.  “It is not your sin to bear, Cullen.”  Cullen scrunched his nose.  Sin?  She tossed her free hand up again.  With a quick swipe, she gathered her precious box again and whisked across the first floor to the stairs.  “I-I’m just going to go sleep this off.  Sorry about the whole Hawke thing.”  Right as she stepped on the first stair, she glanced around the banister at Cullen.  Her bright green shimmered.  “Please…just focus on yourself.  Let me help you.  It’s my best medicine.”

Cullen grimaced and approached Evie’s position.  Her shaking intensified.  Tears wailed up around her contact eyes.  “What about you?”

Evie took a rough raspy inhale as Cullen’s right hand rested on her elbow on the banister.  She nearly dropped the glass of water.  However, her other hand remained solid on the wooden box.  “I’m be fine in the morning.  Just a bad day.  Hormones raging and all.  Just forget about it.”  She sassed, wiggling her manicured eyebrows.  She quickly ascended the stairs.  “Night, Noodle Head!”

Cullen stood shocked and bewildered for a few moments, his consciousness ignoring his soul’s protest to push Evie to speak with him.  By the time he awoke, Evie’s third floor double doors slammed shut and locked.  The ex-templar just stared at where his best friend had stood, keeping her emotions and pain inward.  She was not willing to speak to him about her troubles.  She called them ‘sins’ just like in Kirkwall a year ago.  The geologist took prescription anti-depressants and drank to bury her regrets.  She cared for someone who she patiently waited for like a hopeless romantic.  Yet, her bright green eyes screamed nothing will come of it.

Pulling at his stubble jaw and chin, Cullen digested that he learned more about Evie that night than in the last ten years.  He could not recall her depression and woes throughout the years, yet everything weighing on her nearly broke her today.  Like she stated, the geologist will be fine in the morning, her steel walls firming back in place behind her sassiness and aggressive personalities.

Suddenly, the commander felt he had a new mission, something to use to ignore the aches and pains burning deep inside him from his own addiction.  He lived in this house and can now peel back the layers surrounding Evie.  Cullen knew now there was problem, which was the first part of the battle.  Oh, how blind he had been all these years.  However, he must approach this carefully.  He wanted to respect Evie’s privacy, just open doors for her to walk through when the time was right.  The ex-templar regretted telling Astrid anything now.  This was not the Pox’s issue.  _Yet._   If all of the best friends got involved, Evie will retreat inward further until she will not admit anything even to those close to her heart.  However, Cullen and Evie had a close comradery.  They lived together and saw one another every morning and night.  Cullen could work with this.

The day’s troubles and headaches took a different form in his mind and soul as he let Surana back inside and locked up the house.  His feet carried towards his second floor bedroom, while his thoughts flowed with ideas and considerations to execute his newfound mission.  That wooden box might be a good starting point to get Evie to trust and open up.  Yes, Cullen can ask about its origins, get Evie to start talking.  He must be careful though.

Cullen’s day might have be wrought with calamities, but now he was happy he rolled out of bed and confronted the world.  He was going to help his best friend.  This can be his thanks for Evie’s burden to assist his blighted soul.

 

* * *

 

To think, Kinloch Hold used to be a university.  Cullen considered coming here with Maya instead of templar training.  Yet now, he could not even tell if the holding cells used to be classrooms or always prisons.  Uldred’s radical followers transformed this place of learning into a blood bath and personal Void for anyone who went against their demands.  As two followers dragged Cullen through the muddy courtyard, the malnourished and wounded soldier only prepared his mind for the onslaught of pain and misery they would be inflicting on him again.  The rain poured over his bruised and dirty body.  His skin burned, cut, and was infected from lying in feces-covered floor when not hanging or chained during torture.

How did he end up here, the younger soldier questioned himself.  Cullen could not remember.  Had he only been here a few days or weeks?  Everything was muddled in his mind and soul as one of the radicals kneed him in the stomach to start walking instead of dragging his feet.  Cullen had not seen another familiar soul since his last torture session.  There used to be other special operations templars here, such as his commander, but why did Cullen already know he will never see them again.  Was he the only one left?  Or did he just imagine the other troops to forget the agony these assholes inflicted every chance they got.

The templar yearned for the rain again as his jailers tugged him into a building’s basement.  The stench of bile, decaying corpses, and blood burned his nose, while the humid atmosphere nearly choked his throat.  No, not here again.  Cullen pushed against the radicals, trying to escape their grasps, but somewhere more hands grabbed his arms, legs, and shoulders to push and pull and forward.  No, not again.

“Corporal Rutherford…” a twisted, yet savory voice boomed from a dark corner.  “Are you going to talk today?”

“I…I don’t…”  Cullen could barely find the strength to speak.  His will was nearly broken.  “I know nothing…please…”

“Tsk.  Tsk.  Still lying to me…”  This was a woman’s voice.  It felt what satin felt like caressing his battered skin.  If in a better setting, Cullen might fine it desirable and tantalizing.  “Yet, I know there is more you aren’t telling my leader and me.  Shocks, burns, knife gashes, and waterboarding isn’t working.  Most of your brothers broke with just under three sessions, but here you are still keeping your blighted mouth shut and spatting bullshit.”  Clicking heels wandered around in the shadows towards a lit wall where someone hung chained.  A burlap bag was tied around their neck.  “If personal torture does not break you, maybe seeing someone you care about will make you flap your lips-“

With a flip of her purple-gloved hand, the burlap bag flew off the chained person’s head.  Dirty and matted auburn curls waved with the action, masking the woman’s face.  The woman looked like she had been beaten and bruised multiple times.  Cullen’s mind could not comprehend who this person was and why his captives thought she was important to him.

Then she opened her one not blackened eye.  A bright green gem shined at Cullen with such relief.  That unique orb filled him with warmth and happiness, then despair and fear.  “Eve…No.  NO!”

The torturer laughed a few times, her sickly sweet coo burning Cullen’s ears.  “So he does have a brain…”  She waved to a follower nearby, hunting Evie like a beast.   He grasped her chin, which and fought against his manhandling.  Then, the bastard roughly kissed her against her will.  She squirmed and fought against the chains to free herself from the unwanted attention.  The assaulter slowly slid his big dirty hands down Evie’s barely clothed body.  Her groans and muttered pleas echoed off the stone walls.  Streams of tears poured down her abused face as the attacker ripped her battered clothes off her restrained body.

“Cullen…!”

Evie’s pleas broke something inside his tortured, militated soul.

Somehow, a new revitalized wave of energy flowed through Cullen’s veins like someone placed a lyrium IV into both arms.  The steroid healed his infected wounds and pumped life back into his battered soul.  “Don’t touch her!”  Cullen shoved one jailer off his left shoulder and punched the other in the face, spraying blood everywhere.  “You leave her alone!”  The templar surged forward, ripped the beast off his best friend.  He flung the person down to the cement floor and straggled him with his shaking muscled hands.  “DON’T TOUCH HER!”

_“Cullen…!”_

Cullen’s straggling intensified.  He watched the demon’s face contort as Cullen slowly crushed his wind pipe.

_“CULLEN!”_

Why was Evie still calling for him, Cullen wondered as the life slowly left this monster’s body-

 

-“Cul…len…!”

Salty sweat stung Cullen’s water eyes as his consciousness rose from sleep.  He was on his knees, holding a small fleshy something while kneeling.  The environment slowly cleared in his vision, displaying the Fereldan red walls with white trimming.  Multiple photos and paintings hung on the walls, reminders that he was in a safe location, not in Kinloch.  A queen-size bed consumed most of the bed room’s space, but Cullen had been able to place a dresser, small work desk, and two end stands on either side of the bed.

The white sheets were wet with sweat and tears.  His head supporting pillow, body pillow, and other fluffy stuff were strung all over the place around him.  However, something— _someone—_ laid under him, held in place by his lion pawed hands.  Slowly, his fiery and water amber eyes focused, feeling a few slaps from a flailing hand hitting his shoulder.

Frizzy auburn waves like fire laid over his mattress, while familiar bright green eyes bugged up at him.  Her face was bright red.  The woman’s mouth gapped open, dying for air to fill her suffocating lungs.

Eve-

“-Maker’s breath!”  Cullen hollered, releasing his iron grip on Evie’s throat and flinging himself backwards.  His behind felt the edge of the bed and fell over onto the messy floor.

Gasp and coughs filled the tense air as Evie rolled over on her side taking her first breaths.  One hand grasped her bruising neck, while the other clung onto the sweaty sheets for dear life.  The coughs rang with raspiness and heaves like the woman was about to puke.

However, her bright green eyes, blood-slot from the strangling gazed down at Cullen.  He expected shame, hate, and fear.  Instead, worry and concern for _him_ called from those contact eyes.  “Cul…len…o…kay?”

The ex-templar panted, rubbing his soaked face over and over again in shame and regret.  Maker’s breath, he just nearly choked his best friend to death.  Instead of shunning away or caring for herself, Evie wanted to make sure _he_ was fine.  Slowly, Cullen crawled off the floor, stumbling over his scattered dirty laundry towards the bathroom next door.  He always left a cup there just in case he needed fresh water after a nightmare.  Now, it was necessary to rehydrate the woman he nearly killed.  He fumbled around in the bathroom, grabbing aspirin, elfroot healing oilment, and other medical items to undoing the damage he caused.

The commander rushed into his bedroom, thrusting the fresh glass of water at the coughing Evie.  She accepted, gulping it down too quickly.  She spit up half of it, rubbing her throat and coughing some more.  Still, her bright green eyes stared up at him.  “You…okay?”  Her speech was still heavy and rough, but Evie no longer sounded like a frog.

“I…”  Cullen panted, running his clammy hand through his sweat soaked hair.  “Maker!  I’m so…I apologize, Eve…Maker’s breath!”  His mind rolled with regret.  How could he had done this?!  Out of anyone in this world, he would _never_ want to harm Evie!

“Calm down…”  The woman croaked, lifting a single hand up to his face.  She barely lifted herself off the bed.  Movement ailed her, only adding to Cullen’s shame.  Her free hand cupped his face, pulling him close.  “I’m…okay…My…fault…”

Cullen blinked and batted her hand away.  “Your fault!?  You did nothing wrong.  I nearly broke your neck!  Choked you until you suffocated!”

Evie attempted to shake her head, but winced at the movement.  Noticing the bottle of aspirins in Cullen’s other hand, she reached out and held his callused hand before looking at up at him with gentle eyes.  “…woke…you…”

The commander froze, his mind returning to the night terror that brought this on.  That was the first time the Kinloch Hold torture included someone not there during those long weeks.  Why did his mind and soul insert Evie into that chaos?  He never felt powerful in those terrors, usually very weak and alone as his mind and heart repeated the anguish every night while he slept.  The idea of someone assaulting Evie enraged him to kill without a single thought.

Cullen fell to his knees begging.  “No…Yes, it’s true no one has ever woken me from one of the nightmares, but this isn’t your fault.  I beg for your forgiveness.”

Evie took several swallows and sips of water to get the pain killers down her bruised throat.  From the small moonlight shining from the window, everyone will know by tomorrow how he clawed his hands around her throat, seeing each individual digit ringing the life out of his best friend.  The woman now sitting on the edge of his bed held his face and smiled.  “You called for Maya…You kept screaming ‘Don’t touch her.’”

Cullen’s amber eyes widen.  Evie misinterpret his night cries.  She believed he was calling for Maya, not her.  Blush now over rode the redness caused his panic.  Maybe that was for the best.  Cullen did not want to explain the dream to Evie.  To discuss why she was chained there, Cullen would have to talk about Kinloch Hold.  Just reflecting back on the dream almost made the ex-templar puke.  This was for the best.

Then, the commander squinted, eying his door.  “I thought this room was sound proof…?”

Evie bit her lip.  “I…awake…watching Netflix.  You forgot…to close your door.”

Cullen nodded, running his hand through his sweat curls again.  He could not remember exactly what happened when he came to bed, his thoughts so focused on his determination to assist Evie.  He remembered putting on his sleep pants and tank top, tossing his dirty laundry on the floor to wash in the morning.  Cullen must have fallen directly asleep before finishing his nightly routine.  All his items, such as cellphone, utility knife, pistol, and wallet still hung off his dirty cargo pants in the corner.  Maker, he must have been more tired than he thought.

However, that did not excuse Cullen’s abuse on Evie.  He vowed going to bed to assist her and discover what brought her to tears and wails.  However now, she helped him without damning him for harming her.  “You couldn’t sleep…?”

Evie flipped her hands up before they fell on his shoulders, her way of shrugging without using her neck.  “Even shots…not help.”  She waved off an internal thought.  Her eyes focused on Cullen’s soaked tank top.  “Go shower…I change sheets.”

Cullen pinched his brow.  “Nonsense.  I just…Maker’s breath, Eve.  I could have killed you.  I’m not letting you clean up my mess!”  Evie gave him one of her fiery eye glares.  Without speaking, his best friend was telling him to do as she asked or she will get angry.  “Fine…but, I am still not done apologizing.”

“Nothing…to be…sorry for…”

“You haven’t seen your neck.”  Cullen growled in a deep rough tone.  “Let me grab so ice for the swelling.  Even better, I should take you to the emergency room.”

Evie’s scowl made the ex-templar wince back.  “No.”

Cullen rolled his eyes.  “Fine, but Astrid is going to take a look at it tomorrow.”

Evie’s glare intensified.  “She will…murder you.  Not…allowing that.”

Maker, this woman was so damn stubborn.  “She and Cassandra will rip me apart anyway the first time they see these bruises.”

“I’ll…blame…rough sex…with self.”  Evie joked, winking. 

A few chuckles escaped Cullen while shaking his head.  “Perhaps.  Let me go get the ice, I’ll jump in the shower real quick, then help you with these sheets.”  Evie rolled her bright green eyes again.

After claiming a few clean articles of clothing, Cullen laid them down in the bathroom.  He raced downstairs and prepared a medical ice bag filled with freshly crushed refrigerator ice for his patient.  By the time the commander returned to his room, Evie already had his wet sheets off his bed and gathered his dirty laundry for the washer.  He snatched the laundry and pointed for her to sit and hold the ice bag on her neck.  After several minutes of glaring at each other, Cullen relented to go scrub off his night terror, while Evie controlled the swelling.  Cullen still made sure she saw the elfroot ointment lying on the stand after using the ice.

The blond Fereldan did not know how long he allowed scolding water burn his head and shoulders.  The shower’s fog hovered in the tight room.  Only a small window and the ceiling fan allowed the humid to escape.  His mind was blank, no thoughts or feelings about the last twenty-four hours nagged him.  He should be chastising himself for everything that has happened. 

Since Cullen first began his day, he wronged Evie over and over again.  He still believed his largest failure was telling Astrid about her drinking, not knowing it was a compounded depression issue.  Cullen’s attack just open a door Evie offered since she invited him into her house.  She knew Cullen suffered from nightmares, yet still risked checking up on him.  Despite her own weighing problems, Evie’s attention and care fell on him. 

_“…Let me help you.  It is my best medicine.”_

Maker, it should be the other way around.  Cullen was a burden on this amazing woman who suffered alone.  He should be there for her instead of changing his sheets while healing the bruises he created.  With a quick snap, Cullen turned off the hot water, stepped out, and dried off his wet body.  He did feel a little better physically, while his mental and emotional state hung by a thread. 

Once satisfied that he washed and dried himself, Cullen quickly dressed, slighting embarrassed that Evie saw so much of him again.  This time, he was not as ashamed of her seeing his scarred body.  Somehow by her witnessing the abuse, Cullen felt more comfortable like his body explained what his terror was about.  Still, why was Evie in the dream?  Why did panic and frenzy at the idea she was sexually assaulted?  Well, besides the obvious…

Cullen shook his head, allowing his natural curls to run free.  He would shower again before work anyway.  Dressed, he left the humid bathroom, turning into his bedroom.  He froze, embarrassment and warmth conflicting in his soul.

As promised, Evie remade his bed with fresh sheets, never questioning that he did this nightly.  The comforter, pillows, and other blankets were folded nicely on the bed.  However, what shocked the man was his best friend lying on her side with the ice pack rest on her neck asleep.  Evie fell asleep in his bed waiting for him.

Cullen rubbed his jaw, thinking on what to do.  He could carry her back to her own bed.  That made the most sense.  Cullen nudged his way to where she laid, and slowly found safe place to lift her.

“…let me…stay.”  A whimper plead to the man.  “Want to…make sure…you….okay.”  Her words were heavy with sleep.  Even in her cleaning up, she had placed her contacts in her case and laid it on the end stand like they belonged there.

Cullen blushed, removing his hands from Evie’s exposed knee and shoulder.  She wore the same big t-shirt and fannel shorts from her guitar playing.  Now up close, Cullen studied the t-shirt.  It was frayed, ripped, and nearly see-through from years of use, but Cullen recognized it.  A small gentle smirk graced his scarred lips.  Back in early high school, the Pox’s attempted to established their own club, even having Astrid design baseball jersey t-shirts with their griffon.  However, somehow Evie’s shirt was lost or stolen.  Feeling so left out, Cullen gave her his until they replaced it.  However, the high school banned their club and the Pox’s gave up.  Apparently, Evie kept Cullen’s shirt after all these years.  From its condition, it was one she used frequently to sleep in.

Cullen rubbed his neck, now dishonestly kind of happy Evie wanted to sleep in his bed.  “Eve…wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own bed…”

Heavy sleep hung more and more on her each spoken word.  “It…lumpy.  Need to…flip….mattress.”  The commander knew the woman still had not discovered the rubber spider the Pox’s placed under the mattress.  “Too…worried about…you…Please…?”

Cullen sighed.  He might just sleep on the couch then.  He edged himself towards the door, but felt Evie’s iron grip on his right hand.  He twirled around and gazed down at the sleep woman.  “You…here…”

Should he?  Cullen already assaulted her once.  He might have another night terror and do more harm.  Yet, the idea of just another presence beside him made the offer palpable.  Cullen glanced around for his war hound.  Then he remembered, since she got pregnant, Surana preferred sprawling on the couch alone.

Relenting again, Cullen laid down on the bed, Evie’s nimble hand still on his wrist.  He rolled on his side so he faced the woman, admiring how the moonlight reflected the red tones in her loose curly hair.  Its soft beams highlighted the faint freckles his best friend always hid with concealer.  A strong restful peace fell over the commander as he rested his head on the pillow.  Evie nudged her lethargic body closer to him, her hand clasped with his like she needed to feel him nearby.  The oversized baseball t-shirt rid up her stomach, while her fennel shorts barely clothed her upper thighs.  There was little she could do for Cullen’s plight, but just having her beside him then felt right.  Shutting his whiskey eyes, he gently smiled, no longer fearful of what the Fade might bring.  His once horrified mind now occupied the knowledge Evie was near, ready to comfort him as much as he wanted to succor her.


	19. Alibi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been awhile, everyone! My apologies, but my health and real life has barred me from working on anything let alone this story. As a holiday present, please see the newest chapter filled with some deserved smut! Hopefully more will follow quickly in 2019! The mystery is getting more intense now!
> 
> Chapter Song: "Wearing the Inside Out" by Pink Floyd (Remember to check out the playlist and follow [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/thejeeperswife/playlist/1gkhLu4SsKek0ncNntVf26?si=FMRdSDzMS4Grib9dsUbdvQ)! I am building a YouTube version soon!)
> 
> Occurs same night as Chapter 17 & 18
> 
> NSFW! WARNING! NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

Alistair could not stop tossing and turning.  He laid in all the different positions he knew to get comfortable.  He wondered if he was too hot or too cold, so he flipped his mom’s homemade quilt on and off along with his grey comforter.  The top flat sheet kept twisting around his feet and hands for at least twenty minutes.  By the time the sheriff glanced at his digital clock, the red blaring light signaled he had been fighting his restless war for over two hours.

At 01:35, the sleep deprived sheriff decided it was his sheets and old bed causing the restlessness.  So, he tore everything off the mattress, flipped it, and dumped his used sheets and other blankets down to his mud room to wash immediately.  He threw everything into the small washer, knowing he was overloading the appliance, but Alistair just wanted to get some bloody sleep.

Starting up the machine and hearing its rolling mechanical protests, the strawberry blond man lumbered over to his linen closet and took out the _special_ sheets.  He hand glided over the Tevinter 1000-thread count cotton like it was expensive silk.  Alistair’s mind played the pros and cons of using these sheets.  He utilized them longer than his others and washed them on special settings to avoid striping the filler weave and seams.

_"You sleep on those rags?!  That’s it.  I’ve seen enough.  We’re going to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and buying you something that doesn’t look like mummy strips!”_

Alistair knew right then why he could not sleep.  Instinctively, he pulled down the extra thread count sheets and meandered out of the room back to his bedroom loft.  As much as the goof prioritized work, play, and life, Astrid always broke through the walls and lingered under his skin and squeezed his heart until he believed he might be having a heart attack. 

Hobbling back up the stairs, the sheriff wondered the last time he had truly seen her.  Last week?  Two weeks ago?  Since discovering the skeleton, they have been estranged.  Alistair prepared for the fall out when Haven figures out the body’s identity.  A small baby percentage of the man’s mind whispered it would be nothing because it was not Revka Amell.  If Redcliffe taught the police officer anything, never listen to that little voice until dunfounded during an investigation or faced with an unbelievable unlikely fact.  That voice saved Governor Gurrien’s life because that whole cluster fuck was beyond reason.

Just thinking about that night made Alistair’ shoulder grind and ache.  He threw the sheets on the bed once back in his loft.  The scar tissue broke and stretched, and he did a few physical therapy movements.  The ball joint cracked and tightened the more he tried to relieve the pain.  Everything involving that night years ago was worth the anguish the old wound gave him now.

The bullet wound was angry with him after unloading clips of bullets into Nate’s gun and archery range.  He was ambidextrous, so he could shoot with either hand, although he is a natural left hander.  As teen, the Pox boys teased he could wank with both hands with little problem and could probably get two women to climax without a second thought.  Then Nate and Cullen reminded him he was a moron and probably fumble somehow.  They declared he will never test that theory.  Oh, the things he buddies did not know. 

Thank the Maker Alistair could use his other hand or his police career would have been over.  Once allowed back on duty, he failed his marksman test with his left hand.  He quickly convinced his superior officer and the range director to give another chance.  Alistair switched his holster to the right hip and easily bull’s eyed every target placed in front of him.  Both police officers agreed he just had to get used to wearing his holster on the opposite side and sent him back into the field.

The sheriff still exercised his left hand every so often, hoping that he regained his accuracy and quick draw if placed in a pinch.  Somehow, that little voice rang from the back of his thoughts he will need its old abilities sometime.  Unlikely, but Alistair did not dismiss every option.  He heard one of Astrid’s old physician friends once remark he can always rule out lupus in his strange diagnoses, but Alistair rolled his honey blue eyes.  One day, he will have a patient that test result will provide evidence they suffered with lupus.  That doctor will just have to eat crow.

Astrid remarked a few times that Alistair thought like a scientist and gave statistical accuracy to many conclusions on any given data.  She gave him a gentle smile and a heavy blink with the statement that people underestimated him.  She always thought about the astronomical probability that he was absolute genius who allowed his sophomoric state to cover that rare inquisitive mind.

By then, Alistair had placed the mattress sheet and flat sheet on the bed, while shoving his flat pillows back into the clean special cases.  Only his boxer briefs, he flopped into bed with his head buried into the mattress. He arms laid at his side and his legs hung over the end like his body suffered from rigamortis.  Ugh, the sheriff was still restless and uncomfortable.  Maybe he needed to beat off and the relaxation afterwards will put him asleep.  Even wanking required more energy that the sheriff really did not have.

The man’s mind wandered back Astrid’s theory about Alistair’s geniusness.  His face shifted so he could breathe, but remained hanging over the side.  His honey blue eyes stared at the long cabin wall.  If that woman was correct, two things are possible:  One, Haven and the Pox’s can avoid drudging up the past when they discover that skeleton is not Maya’s mother.  And two, Astrid and he will be together, married with lots of children, and die at the ripe old age of ninety-eight.  Personally, he did not want to turn one-hundred, saying he was an age old sounded like so old hermit who was bonkers as shit.

Maker, all that sounded like the heavens.

Statistically possible, but so unlikely, especially both statements together, that Alistair allowed them to float away in his sleep deprived mind with a single breath.

The cabin was cool, well insulated in the ceiling, but nothing between the large logs that formed the walls.  Speaking of age old things, the cabin in the woods rivaled some of the local buildings downtown in age.  The first time he stumbled upon it, he vowed to live there and rebuild until it was hospitable.  That was what he exactly did.  Still, with each exhale, he could see small puffs of fog.  As the late autumn temperatures fell substantially outside, his little get away will get colder and darker, much like his soul.  Not even a burning fire below will chase away the lonesomeness and chill.

_Ali, do not think that way.  I want you around._ We _want you with us.  You are never alone and never forget that, please?_

Good ole Maya and her rare moments of courage and passion.  When she heard statements from the Pox’s that sounded giving up or depressive mindsets, she would purse her lips, stomp over, and flop down on the couch cushion beside you.  She preached the most stern prep talk that would ignite the most dismal football team down fifty to zero the burning fire to go back out on the field after half time and win the game.  Yet another person who fought the astronomical odds so the rare actions or outcome came true.  If she ever knew how much he loved Astrid, that shy blonde woman would have ran to Astrid’s house and give the Pox’s mother hen a short but very convincing speech.  It would result in Astrid coming out of nowhere to confess her feelings and give up on this stupid charade.

Maya made Alistair feel wanted by someone beyond his mother.  The Pox’s all share a piece of his heart and soul for being a family beyond relation, but Maya went beyond that and was his rock when he felt his foundation crumble.  Evie stated it was normal for single parent child to feel abandoned or lost.  Evie specifically pointed out that boys without a father figure around felt it the most, needing some man to look to for guide.  Yes, his mother Fiona provided him everything he ever wanted, but he was not going to go to her about some issues like starching his pants the first time he saw a naked woman on a porn magazine Nate stole from his dad.  How would he explain that to short elven single mother?!  Even Duncan, his mentor and old friend, would not appreciate such talks while fishing.

Somehow, Alistair and Maya bonded over estranged family situations.  Alistair never met his father, a man who left his pregnant mother high and dry, but admitted his linage to the baby’s parentage.  He gave Alistair his surname and left to only die soon after in some freak fire.  His body was beyond recognition but DNA confirmed it was him. 

Peculiarly, Maya understood Alistair’s abandonment better than any other Pox.  She admitted little about her family, but always wore a long face or lost eyes when she received a letter from her Chantry sister.  She just sat beside Alistair on a cliff edge where the clan would rope swing during the summer.  The meek girl laid her head on his shoulder and hummed the Chant.  The air would feel heavy and lonesome.  It was there Alistair’s hidden inquisitive mind grew and molded, figuring out Maya informed him what bothered her.  She _never_ openly told anyone what occurred inside, one cracking point in Cullen and her relationship. 

Yet, Alistair listened and deducted that Maya wanted to meet her other family members or at least see her sister more often that the Chantry allowed.  Her sing songy voice cooed the older siblings left her alone in that house, charged with protecting Micah and following the strict protocol her father enforced.  She vividly remembered the day she watched and stood silent as her father and brother, Hector, argued and threw vases and curses over the middle child’s future life choices.  Hector packed little and declared he was going to Denerim.  He would call _Mother_ when he was settled.  Maya hummed she wished she could have convinced Hector to stay longer so that the words spoken behind closed doors lessen.  The burden and losses tore with her and made her clingy to the Pox’s like her life depended on it.  No wonder when everything went to the Void she fell into damnation, lost without her friends. 

Alistair will never disclose this, but Maya’s death was probably a blessing.  To her—and partially Alistair—the Pox’s abandoned her like his father left his elven mother destitute and frightened about the future to the point she fled Denerim.  Maya felt alone and lost everyone she could ever rely on with the betrayals to the point she tumbled into darkness.  However, the sheriff still sticks with his whole-heartily belief that _nothing_ happened between Cullen and Evie.  It was abandonment and loss that ignited the jealousy and accusations the meek young woman threw to the point she sounded insane. 

Oh, how Alistair wished he had had just sat on that cliff with Maya and listened to her chirper voice sing the Chant to discover her internal struggles.  Maybe he could have demonstrated her fears were nothing.  Only Alistair could have convinced her in his secret deductive ways, providing the impossible evidence from out of nowhere she had nothing to fear.  Yes, Cullen and she would break up, but the Pox’s and Cullen would not abandon her like her older siblings or his father.

Alistair stared at that log wall.  He excluded one of those astronomical instances right then.  Remembering Maya’s hidden message via the Chant—which Alistair thanked Cullen for engraining the sacred texted into his bored mind during Sunday School—he now knew it was quite possible and almost completely certain that body was Revka Amell.  The bits of verse the young woman divulged told of a world that tore everyone many directions.  The Amell Family carved a sickly sweet wooden statue of piety and dedication into Haven’s community to cover the termites and wood worms eating the large family from the inside outside. 

How did the sheriff not catch this sooner?  He saw so many false family lives in Redcliffe all the damn time when called to different homes or neighborhoods.  Every time such falsehoods were uncovered, the blow to the community rippled and exposed the other rotted or fungus wood in the neighborhood grove.  The same will happen in Haven when the DNA confirms the fact Alistair already knew deep in his soul.  More little dirty lives will surface to the point the small little hamlet will question everything they once thought until they formulate their own insanities about each other.

Alistair groaned and reburied his freckled face into the special sheets, knowing he was using precious sleeping time to realize what he struggled with since the seeker announced the potential identification.  He knew why he laid there nearly naked and growing sagging bags under his eyes.  The community or neighborhood Alistair knew would be uprooted.  The Pox’s will feel the ripples impacting the rest of the small town.  Nothing against Haven, but the most termites will bore out of the friends as their perceptions of happy events crumble into saw dust.  Evie warned him weeks ago that Nate’s potential proposal will bring change.  Alistair doubted this was not her exact idea. But nonetheless, the observation bitch—as the Pox’s called Evie Trevelyan sometimes—sat somewhere with a smug but broken look of satisfaction.  That somewhere probably was The Singing Maiden striking an ex-boyfriend and starting a bar fight that rolled into Main Street.

The sheriff’s ears suddenly heard the most silent squeak inside his home.  The Warden National Guard and the police academy attuned his senses like little nubs on a ham radio.  He kept his face buried, forcing himself to use his auditory accuracy instead.  The cabin was dark and musty because of the autumn wet weather, so essentially his nose and eye senses were useless.  Automatically, he slid his right arm and leg to the right, changing his center of gravity.  Slipping to the right of his bed, his hand fumbled for a few moments and finally touched his backup revolver in its holster.

The small squeals and moans the old cabin whimpered as someone moved downstairs and closer to his position.  Alistair knew his home little creaks, easily deducting this was not the blowing fall wind over his A-frame roof or settling stone foundation with a stream running through his old cellar.  Even the water pump that he installed to avoid rain water to not flood his basement rarely ran.  His hand touched and unbuttoned the brass button securing revolver in place.

Another creak.  Another moan.  Another shudder.

The individual was close, almost to the loft.  He knew that moan every time he stepped on the fifteenth stair on the left by the old mouse hole he had not covered in years.  He left cheese in front of it a few times.  The man hoped to catch the rat who ate his favorite sharp cheddar he left in his cellar as a whole round block.  The rodent never showed his face, the fiend.   Alas, that was not the case for the interloper, only three steps from the landing.

Alistair retracted his right hand from the holster placement and allowed his arm with pistol to hang.  He did not turn off the safety.  He avoided harming anyone ever since he took his first life during the Blight.  Enough of people’s blood haunted him.  He wished to avoid anymore, especially a lurker who must see his bum sticking up and likely wiggling each time he took a long and controlled breath.  After all, half of marksmanship was breathing…and apparently wiggling the butt.

The squeaking stopped.  The man barely heard a breath before he rolled over on his back, leaned up and point the revolver at the idiot who decided to linger and gaze at the freckled sheriff of Haven at 02:00.  In the darkness, Alistair could only see a shadow standing at the base of his bed.  The shadow did not even gasp.  The only light provided in the loft was a few grey beams from the rising Satina through the A-frame little window high above the bed in the rafters.  It was enough though for Alistair know how she creeped around like a ghost.  The shadow’s hair shimmered grey and white like Andraste herself.  After all, this particular person’s birthday occurred during the week when Satina peaked in the sky and every Andrastian feasted and exchanged gifts. 

The sheriff lowered his revolver, the intensity in his face dissipated as the shadow stepped forward.  Astrid held herself close, her mute face melted into a slight frown.  Yet her moon grey eyes shimmered.  Her grimace was not that he pointed at gun at her.  He had done it several times in the field during the Blight when on covert operations.  Maker’s balls, he had a scar on his behind from where she grazed it killing someone attacking his flack.

Funny, the first thought that fell out of the man’s mouth was not why she wandered his home or why her hair was wet.  He did not point out her flimsy sandals and a long jersey dress was inappropriate clothing for the night weather.  Instead, he mumbled, “Your birthday is in eleven days.”

Astrid briefly smiled and shook her head.  “Did you forget?”

Alistair shook his head and slowly rolled his body to the left to place the revolver back into the holster.  “ _Noooo…_ ”  He huffed like a man caught in only his underwear.  “Just reminding you to finish your gift shopping before everyone gave you double the presents for both holidays.”

Astrid hugged herself closer and hung her head.  “My birthday is not a holiday-“

“-It is to me.”  Alistair snapped back, his demeanor shifted to a stern stubborn man.  He worshipped that day.  Yes, he goes to the Chantry and sing all the Chant hymns like a good lil Andrastian, but he makes sure every time, specifically that week’s midday when Satina hung high and in full brightness above that he thanks the Maker for creating Astrid Elissa Cousland.

The sheriff’s stiffness ignited something in Astrid’s moonstone eyes.  She shuddered just a little, only noticeable by her grey-white hair highlighted by the moon.  She stepped forward again.  Unraveling her arms around her chest and shoulders, she reached for her neck, flicking her wet black strains to the side to untie the dress’ holster strings.  With a single yank, the unflattering straight black jersey dress fell from her body.  It never touched her fair skin and reviled she wore no under clothes.

“I need you…”  The usually emotionless mother hen whispered into the night.  Alistair’s cock responded immediately.  All the available blood that once assisted in his last night thoughts ventured to his member like it was a race.  Astrid’s hungry eyes noticed instantly.  She step on the bed, straddled his legs still dangling over the side, grabbed the boxer’s elastic seam, and pulled them down and off his legs and feet in a flash.  Her pull was strong and rough, essentially how they spent their intimate time in secret.  If Alistair did not go to the courthouse with a bite or long scratch in the morning, something was wrong with Astrid.

Once the boxers left his feet, the woman engulfed her mouth and swallowed Alistair’s growing cock.  The gulping moan rolling out of his throat told Astrid immediately that her assault was welcomed and happily encouraged.  Her sucking got stronger the more blood filled his lengthening dick.  One soft hand snaked up his hip and side until her thumb and index finger discovered his nipple.  Just six inches higher was the bullet scar tissue.  Astrid used her nails to pinch and roll the useless mammary, making Alistair stiff and wince with beautiful pain.  He lost at attempt to keep his eyes open as her tongue lick and rolled around his cock.  Alistair witnessed Astrid’s other hand following his inner thigh, scratching and friction burning down to where she kneeled over him.  Again, the receiver stiffen and attempted to pull his marked leg up.  However, his lover used her unexpected strength to keep him in place.

Astrid lifted herself onto her knees, bobbing her head up and down his shaft.  Her drool dripped from her full pink lips and into his peppered red pubic hair.  Bit of wetness flowed to his balls, cooled as the autumn air removed her natural body heat from the saliva.  Again, the sheriff winced at the startling temperature.  His hazel blue eyes flashed open at the feeling, groaning as Astrid demonstrated why she shifted to her knees.  Her other hand once completing the set of finger makers down to his knee shifted to massage her pearl.  Her beautiful moon grey eyes flash up at him as she bobbled up, sucked, and lapped at his purple head.  She moaned right on the tip as she pleasured herself with circles and roaming fingers.

Maker, this woman loved teasing Alistair.  He always insisted to be the one to rub her nub or lick and suck it under her juices dipped into his goatee.  On occasion, he has arrived home and found her masturbating on his couch, her groin spread eagle towards the front door.  Like a hungry mabari not asking a question, he dove in and completed her, happily receiving her orgasm as a welcome home gift.

Now, Astrid demonstrated she was in control tonight, the moonlight only reflected the small ring of grey iris pushed into blackness.  Her pupils blown wide as she indulged on his dick and flicked her clit.  Alistair was there to take it.  Sometimes, he was not allowed to touch her, but he risked it now, reaching hard to fondle her bouncing hanging breasts with each bobble and suck.  Still, their eyes were locked together.  Alistair challenged as he snapped her perked nipples and grabbed her breast with a hard digging fist.

The bit of pain pushed the physician over the edge.  Astrid shut her eyes, bobbled down and bite the base of his penis, her hand on his chest flying to his balls to grab and roll them as the sighs, rumbles, and cries rang from her throat and over his fully erect penis.  He felt everything as he saw her juices run down her right leg and stained his new sheets, _her special sheets_.  She must have seen them by now.

Before the last of her orgasm ended, the woman lifted her head, removed her hands from her nib and his balls and snaked up his body.  “I will ride you _hard_ and won’t stop for anything.”  Instantly, her wet, still spasming pussy slid right over his cock.  Alistair arched his back and screamed the happiest cry.  Then he relaxed, his hands sitting on his lover’s naked seductive hips.  Astrid sat on him, his member sleeved inside her, warm and at home.  No matter how hard and raunchy their sex could be, they both stop and stared down at one another once they were one.  It happened the first time, and it occurred ever since.  No words are spoken, only lock loving eyes that spoke for both individuals.

_I’m complete.  You are my missing half.  We are soulmates forever and will never find another person like you in all of Thedas and time.  Only like this we are alive_.

Astrid leaned forward, her breasts brushing his soft chest hair and harden pecs.  Just with a tap, her swollen lips touched his.  Alistair took a single breath right as their lips gently and tenderly met, saying everything and nothing.  These kisses were the most precious of any because Astrid told him with such soft, smooth movements her buried soul and heart.  Something happened, and she was scared.  She came to the only person who can protect her.  Astrid needed him to reassure herself that she still lived and so did he.  If something happened to one of them, the other will quickly follow.  They already almost lost each other twice, first the Blight and then saving the governor.  Her shaking resumed and her skin goosebumped under his soothing brushes with his rough thumb over her perfect hips.  Connected by sex and a kiss, their souls and hearts wrapped and held one another, remembering each other and cherishing the moment.

Then Alistair felt it.  The retreat back into Astrid’s solid walls as she left the kiss and leaned back.  She knew he and her were safe and well.  Whatever had happened rattled her.  Now after being with him, she pushed the fear and anxiety away, leaving the stable and mute Astrid.  However, her face was nothing but stolid.  She lifted her hips and slammed down on him, kicking the air out of his lungs.  Her sexual assault ramped quickly to completely unsheathing herself from his cock and slamming right back down, her tail bone grinding into his nuts.  Alistair just hung on as she rolled her curvy hips and hitched forward, pushing his member deeper into her vagina.  At times, Alistair felt her cervix, but also grazed her g-shot, elisting beautiful cusses and mewls from Astrid’s lips. 

Sweat rolled down her larger breasts and her brow, but Astrid continued hard and determined.  She dug her nails into his biceps, chest, and sides as her pace sped up and her walls clinched around his cock.  Alistair climbed with her, the assault with her mouth and cunt pushing the limits of his sexual control.  He kept repeating to himself not to climax until she did again.  He will always crest with the woman he loved and cherished it more than life itself.  His hand flew to her chest again, her boobs bouncing with her movement hypnotic and so majestic.  His left reached to her clit and just pushed.  The harder he did, the more he felt those walls clamp his dick. 

With a single flick, Astrid screamed and ripped her hands down his biceps to his elbows.  The scream was euphoric, an utopia that they could only reach together.  Alistair flashed forward, burying his face between her tits as he followed.  His own hollering remained muffled by those perfect breasts.  Just as he felt her moans on his dick, she could feel his Adam’s apple and voice call his love and bliss.  The more he kissed and deepened his cock all the way into her cervix, Astrid’s own orgasm continued.  Her head hung back, allowing her damp messy black waves to hang behind her.  Satina’s moonlight fully emerged from the window and casted it blessing upon the strains.  Grey, white, silver, and blue shimmered, only confirming to the relaxing Alistair that he loved a moon goddess.

As Alistair leaned back to lay on the bed, Astrid followed him.  His arms snaked around her sweat slick skin until her knees shifted from kneeling to lay completely on the sheriff.  Her clammy hands followed his chest and arms until they tugged around his neck.  The goddess’ head found his right shoulder.  Like a magnet, her hand covered the bullet scar, a sight that she did not want to see.

“I…should get you something to clean off with-“  The man mumbled despite his body stating not the move or let this woman leave his side.

“These are the special sheets.”  His goddess observed, kissing his neck.  “We never clean up on these sheets.  You’re obsessed with our sex smell.”

Alistair smugly grinned.  “Yeah…” He admitted, softly running his left hand up and down her back and side.  “I don’t wash them until all I smell is my funk and not your fantastic aroma of juices.  Cum though?  Rots and smells horrific.”  He shook his head and stuck out his tongue.

Astrid giggled and gently grin up at her lover.  Her face was so expressive and alive.  She is perfection stolid and poised, but Maker, Alistair could weep at her angelic glow ringing from her emotional reactions.  Only he saw this light so deeply hidden behind properness and control.  Only he could break her resolve, but he respected her too much to do so in public.  He _loved_ her too much to demonstrate to even the Pox how Astrid Cousland truly could be.

It flew out of his mouth again, but Maker, he will always say it every chance he gets no matter if she thinks otherwise:  “I love you.”

Alistair felt the lady lying on him stiffen and hold her breath.  She usually fled now, or after he fell asleep.  That was what happened last time a month ago.  She stayed until he fell asleep with her in his arms, but he awoke at dawn alone, naked, and disappointed.  The sheriff knowns the seeker caught him glaring and burying his hurt as he witnessed Astrid rush into the hospital.  Maker forbid being caught in bed with Alistair Theirin…

That abandonment feeling rushed to the surface.  Maya’s hums rang in his head as she sang her woe in Chant.  Alistair just listened and deciphered the meaning.

_Don’t leave me._

Maya and Alistair spoke that in tandem once.  They glanced at one another, held hands, and smiled.  If anything happened in this world, they would never at least abandon each other.  Yet, Maya did.  She died.  Her death now caused the woman he loved and he to never be together.  The buried anger and lonesomeness brewed inside Alistair at the realization.  He had successfully buried it that night in Astrid’s bathroom where Evie held onto left.  Cullen pinching his nose, Nate hanging his head and wanting to punch something.  No one else noticed how Astrid locked eyes with him by the doors as each Pox’s gave their oath to never date one another.  Alistair never truly agreed to the agreement, making a joke about prom instead.  It gave Astrid as way to tell.  Yet, her moon eyes teared up at him.  The guilt and pain of losing Maya was too much.  Astrid agreed and abandoned Alistair.

Three different people.

Dad.  Maya.  Astrid.

Those buried torments now flooded to the surface.  A single tear rolled down Alistair’s cheek, away from Astrid’s sweaty head.  Alistair pursed his lips.  He had enough.  _No_ more-

“Ast-“

“-I was with you the whole night.”  Astrid lifted her head and grabbed his cheeks.  “I was in your arms and bed all this evening and night.  If someone asks, tell them about _us!_ ”

Alistair froze.  His hands fell to the bed in disbelief.  He knew he must have paled because Astrid started rubbing his jaw and cheeks for color.  Still, Alistair was lost for words.  The abandoned hurt dissipated, crawling back deep into his heart where it laid, but left the hole it just exploded from. 

She was asking for an alibi.  Astrid needed an alibi.  What happened that she would need someone to confirm her whereabouts?  Why was she dressed like that in such cold weather and her hair wet, nearly dripping?  Why did she sneak into his home instead of come through the backdoor and walk normally up the stairs?  Alistair should ask, but all common sense flew out of his head.

_“Tell them about_ us _!”_

The secret would come out if asked.  He could not tell anyone, beating around the bush like how he had to do with Nate earlier in the day.  If he told one person, he could tell others.  Haven could know.  _The Pox’s_ could know, and Astrid just confirmed he could speak and not lose her.

No more hiding.

No more lies.

No more abandonment.

Without a second though, Alistair hollered, “Yes!  Of course!”

Someone, _ask him_ now!


	20. Roped In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song: "You Gotta Be" by Des'ree
> 
> Trigger Warning: Hints of previous abuse in childhood and addiction

“ _No_ , Rian.”

Cullen glanced up from the television, ham and cheese sandwich just inches from his mouth at the sound of a very frustrated and jet lagged Evie busting through the front door.  In one hand was the woman’s carryon pull handle, and in the other, her house and jeep keys.  Pressed between her cheek and coat shoulder was her smartphone.  A very familiar bass voice vibrated out of the ear piece as Evie flung her keys on the island.  She slapped her carryon down on the ground and kicked the front door shut with her boot foot.

Evie was in one of those moods.

“Yes, I understand I’m not going home to Ost-“  Evie bit back a swear as the bass voice cut her off.  Evie rested her hand on her hip, not bothering to grab the phone or take off her unbuttoned peacoat.  Still, she pulled her plead wool scarf through the small space between her neck and the phone.  She flung over the couch nearly into Cullen’s sandwich.  The woman did not even notice.  “I know I don’t visit-“  The male tone continued to lecture her.  “Esme won’t be-“  Her bright green eyes flicked to Cullen still eyeing her from his seat on the couch.  He picked bits of wool out of his mustard.  Her natural face, devoid of makeup, was red from the bitter cold outside and her boiling anger.  His best friend was about to pop at any point.  “I bet Josephine’s amazing Satinalia dinner will be delicious, but there is no way I am sitting at a fancy dinner table on Satinalia Eve across from _Patricia!_ ”

Oh.

Cullen needed no further explanation, twisting back right in his seat and taking a bite out of his sandwich, wool and all.  He was definitely not getting involved with _that_ mess.  Before Evie left for her academic conference last week, she informed the Pox’s she was avoiding Ostwick this Satinalia to spend the holiday—also Astrid’s birthday—with her best friends in Haven.  She dropped the news on her parents in a sweet but guilt-filled call right as she was leaving for the airport.  Apparently, the geologist spent her drive home digging herself out of another family function.

Just from the information Cullen overheard between Rian’s interruptions, the eldest Trevelyan was holding a Satinalia Eve dinner at his mansion before the rest of the family flew home the next morning.  Esme must have been coming to town just for the dinner before flying somewhere else to digital take down a dictator or see his parents.  The dinner sounded more than just the close siblings and included _all_ the Trevelyan children…including Evie’s wicked half-sister, Patricia.

Just thinking that bitch’s name made Cullen want a stiff drink.

The commander’s amber eyes flicked over his shoulder as he munched on his sandwich bite.  Yup, just as he expected.  Even the geologist’s hair seemed alight and smoking.  Evie will either hang up the phone or will invent a new cuss word to describe her sister.

“I don’t _care_ if that slut of a butt-licking druffalo taint brings the Empress of Orlais, I will not sit across from her for all the fucking sovereigns in Chantry coffers!”  Evie hollered into the smart phone after she pulled it from her shoulder to scream into the receiver.  “I’m.  Not.  Going!”  She punched the “call-end” button and threw it across the room, almost breaking it and the backdoor glass sliding door.  The auburn haired woman grabbed her hair and pulled outward.  _“Cunt!”_

Cullen actually kicked himself that he did not consider she would do both.

“Welcome home…?”  The blond Fereldan mumbled after swallowing his bite.

“The _first_ Satinlia in over a decade that I don’t spend with my family, and _I’m_ the fucking bitch of the family!?”  Evie pointed to herself, while shrugging off her coat.  “Yes, I haven’t seen Esme in six months.  Yes, I don’t visit Rian at his majestic mansion, but who would when he and Josephine can barely look at each other and regret every choice they ever made?!  But Maker, I would like to live my Void-damned life instead of being disrespected every breath for all my shortcomings and lack of spouse by a woman who used her own marriage to a man twice her age for riches and status.  Somewhere in Patricia’s mind between getting treated for STIs and hosting orgies forgot she would be expected to give an heir to that Orlesian dumbass, thus meaning to have sex with _him_.  I prefer that turd over her, and he is actually spending the holiday with his mistress in the Orlesian countryside.  He’s tossing Patricia to the curb, thus why she is setting foot in dog-drool Ferelden before whoring around Ostwick!  But _no!_   ‘Evelyn, you are being selfish.  Think about your family.  Patricia needs you in her time of need.  How can you deny a simple evening dinner that Josephine spent weeks planning to hang out with a bunch of friends you see all the time?’  UGH!”  By now Evie was pacing and throwing her belonging all directions between the kitchen, living room, and dining table.  “If he even needs to mention such points, he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does!”

Cullen perked one eyebrow.  “But are you going…?”

“Of course I am.”  Evie yelled, kicking off a boot.  “Rian knows just what to say to guilt-trip me into anything!  He stated Esme will be there, Josephine planned her some of my favorite Antivan dishes, and mentioned Patricia’s perfect little marriage was falling apart.  It’s just they all speak so little about you and the other Pox’s.  Ever since I met you, all my relations make an effort to smack talk you all, knowing or not caring that I love you all dumb fuckers.”

The geologist’s brow scrunched while gesturing outside.  “And how did it change from a comfy and tolerating forty degrees to nipples-cutting glass twenty degrees in four days!?”  Cullen chuckled to himself, expecting such a response.  As soon as the cold snap hit yesterday, the Pox’s knew Evie will be complaining until Bloomingtide when the weather turned to spring again.  Wait until she found out there was a winter storming coming Satinalia Eve. 

Evie threw the commander a look that would kill any other man who did not receive that glare at least twice a month for the last twenty years.  She flicked him off and flung her boot down the hall way.  “Fuck Fereldans and their fucking cold winters…”  Evie shifted her middle finger to Surana who just watched her kick and holler.  “…and your fucking dog worship!”  Surana growled at her, showing her teeth.  “Yeah!  You heard me, you fat bitch!”

Cullen did not miss a beat before taking another sandwich bite.  Bread crumbs slipped from his scarred lips as he spoke, “Good idea.  Piss of the man-eating mabari so pregnant she can’t contain her raging hormones.”  Surana barked and snapped her jowls to reinforce the point.  The geologist took a few steps back and weighed her options.  “And she is extra pissed right now:  she has a vet appointment at 14:00.  I’ll just repeat what you just said when Alistair and Dorian picks up your body in morning after Surana rips out your throat while you sleep.  They might award her a civilian medal of freedom for upholding Fereldan mabari worship.”

“Mental note to self:  lock and double bolt my bedroom door tonight.”

“That won’t save you, idiot.”  Cullen took another bite.  “Your doors are just plywood.  One headbutt and you’re dead.”

Evie finally stopped her stomping and pacing.  She circled around the couch, gave Surana a wide berth once realizing her error and rested her head on Cullen’s shoulder.  The frustrated woman ignored he just wore a t-shirt and sports shorts despite the house freezing.  The actions surprised Cullen for a moment because Evie typically shy from touching him to respect his space and PSTD triggers.  However, the surprise shifted to comfort as he glanced out of his right eye.  Tears tickled the edge of her glossy bright green eyes.  Evie almost never cried in front of him.  Maker, this really screwed her up.  “I wish I wasn’t from wealth.  I wish I was just a farm girl or an elf’s bastard.  Maybe Mama Rutherford wants another daughter?”

A single laugh rumbled out of Cullen’s chest.  He rested his bare feet on the coffee table, while Evie curled up against his feverish body.  Typically, she would not be so hands-on, but she hated being chilly.  Her hands were ice cold.  Her whole body shivered.  To Cullen though, it was the heavens.  His withdrawal fever today nearly made him run around in his boxer briefs.  He would have if he knew exactly when Evie arrived so not to give her a fright.  So, he directed her icy hands on his neck.  Both people groaned in content at the needed temperature difference.  “Apparently, you forget you practically lived at my house throughout middle school.”

“No, I remember.”  Evie bit her lower lip.  “I went home in more of Mia’s clothing than my own to the point the servants thought I was sleeping with a woman.  Those rumors were entertaining until my Great Aunt Lucille threatened to send me to one of those Chantry ‘gay conversions camps’, the old bat.”  The geologist kept her warming hands on either side of his neck, but wrapped her arms around Cullen’s right bicep.  Her glassy eyes stared at the commercials splicing the war documentary Cullen decided to watch on his day off.  It finished with enough time for him to change and take Surana for her pregnancy follow up.  “Mother and Father knew what was happening, but had no way to lessen the Void that was my home life without sending me away from them and the Pox’s.”

Cullen knew Evie’s parents well, although the Pox’s rarely went around the Trevelyan Estate.  It was easier for Evie to hitch a ride with a cook or servant to town and hang out with the crew.  Nate made the trek to the mountain resort when he would go on his forest walkabouts.  The few times Cullen ever ventured to the mansion, the experience was a nightmare.  Not because Bann Trevelyan and his wife, Gwen, were rude or anything, more because Patricia made the experience a living Void.

Cullen actually liked Lady Gwen.  She was the bann’s second wife, a teacher he fell in love with while requiring a tutor to assist Patricia’s early education.  She was much younger than her future husband and from humble beginnings.  Gwen was why Evie was so down-to-earth and not like other upper crest nitwits.  Her mother demonstrated there were others less fortunate, herself once being one.  Gwen illustrated the inequality in society by taking the children to the Alienage and introduced poor Qunari and casteless dwarves she knew around town.  Ian and she married for love.  Social classes did not matter to the two lovers, but romance and care was not required for a “successful” noble family. 

Ian’s first marriage was arranged and followed the nobility protocol.  Ian hated his wife, and she him.  She had several affairs much like her daughter Patricia did now.  Finally, she slept with the wrong man.  Ian had enough and filed for divorce despite the backlash.  It was not complete by the time she was found dead in an Ostwick mine, thus the bann “saved face” among his peers.  Well, until he married Gwen and Evie’s quick birth arrival.  Apparently, that wrong man—more specifically that man’s powerful wife—was truly the death of the bann’s first wife and Patricia’s mother.  Ian was not behind the mysterious death personally, but he certainly did not cry tears at her funeral.

The marriages’ difference was why Patricia was so wicked, Cullen believed.  She was unwanted by her father, proof he could not just annul the first marriage.  Iann and Gwen loved their children, Evie and Esme.  However, the parents were constantly busy and could not keep Evie and Esme safe from their half-sister’s wrath.  Rian was much older, actually their cousin.  Evie lived to that moment because she met the Pox’s, while Esme discovered computers and the Internet.  If not, both children would have be driven insane by that wicked woman’s tricks.

Patricia was the most pranked person in Haven.  The Pox’s all hated her one way or another.  The clan did not prank her for Evie’s sake, but for how she treated everyone not of wealth and high birth.  Her actions drove Evie further from those social circles, only increasing the divide between the sisters.

It was at its worst while Evie was in middle school.  Patricia was forced to attend Haven High instead of a specialty school in Orlais.  While the family was quite wealth, the economy had dipped during that time.  The mining industry slowed as steel companies transferred to country with less regulations.  The school money was transferred to assist Esme’s cognitive and behavioral development.  He was on the spectrum, but high-functioning.  It was around this time Evie’s grandfather declined drastically.  The parents flew between Ostwick constantly and relied on Orlesian relatives to watch the children.

And thus why Evie practically lived at Cullen’s family house.  The blond Fereldan glanced at his friend staring into space, a hollow gaze he was quite familiar with.  She never spoke about what happened, only ask Cullen’s mother if she could stay the night.  The first times caused more harm than good for her by how guarded she acted at school later.  After a while, a night on the Rutherford couch became her sanctuary.  Cullen even overheard his mother once suggesting making themselves Evie’s guardian while her parents were unavailable to avoid whatever Evie experienced at home.  His father convinced her not to get involved.  He had spoken to her father about the issue and that was why her stays began being encouraged.  Her parents knew she was having problems, but could do little with the current situation.  Esme’s special education kept Gwen away, and Ian’s father failing health pulled him to the Free Marches.

Blood trickled into Cullen’s mouth.  He winced, licking the bite from where his grinding teeth tore his cheek skin.  As an adult, Cullen knew such measures were not normal or healthy for a child.  Maker, he constantly arrived at Kirkwall residents’ homes with Chantry social workers to remove children being abused by family.  The experience was heart wrenching.  In some cases, Cullen just followed orders even though he saw falsified records to incriminate a single-mother so the sexually abusive father could get custody.  Just thinking about it then on the couch caused Cullen squeeze his eyes shut.  That child’s screams to not go back to _him_.  The mother being arrested and thrown in jail for life for a crime she never committed.  And he _assisted_ and _contributed_ to that!

A single tear rolled down Evie’s cheek.  She quickly retracted her now hot and sweaty hand from his neck to wipe it away in hopes that Cullen had not seen it.  The ex-templar now knew Evie was such an abused child.  He learned from child psychologists and social workers signs of abuse.  Teachers also received those skills, more likely to see the striking shifts first.  Evie fit the short-tempered mistrusting child.  Her emotions were written across her face, but not why she acted out.  Yes, she beat the shit out of boys harassing others.  Yes, she planned crazy pranks and tricks on those who deserved it. 

Now, Cullen knew she did all of that to hide or act out what she could not do in her own life.  Evie never said a word.  Pride maybe?  No.  Evie never wants someone worrying about her.  She will go out of her way to protect and assist you, but never asked for assistance in return.  She feared if she opened she would be hurt, even by the Pox’s.  Actually, most of all by the Pox’s.  Look at how Astrid, Maya, and Nate turned on her when Maya accused her of cheating in high school!

Suddenly, the man no longer was hungry.  He did not want to watch television.  He rested his head on Evie’s scalp and poked her puffy cheek.  His amber eyes noticed her teardrop gemstone was hanging on top of her turtleneck shirt.  She wore those types of sweaters since that night nearly two weeks ago.  Since those realizations and terrible night a week or so ago, Cullen worked on how he can assist her.  How can he have her open up to him with why she drank?  What happened to her in her youth?  Who was this mystery person she cared about but will never have?  What was that wooden box so important to the point she locked it inside her office safe before leaving on the conference trip?!  It made his head spin because he should already know this about this amazing friend, but never bother to think beyond his own world to even ask.

Yet, there was one thing the dumb Fereldan knight could do now.  “Sounds like you need a wingman.”

Evie scrunched her brow and lifted her face upward.  Her temple grazed his five o’clock shadow.  “Wha…?!”

“For the Satinalia Eve dinner.  Sounds like you need a wingman to cover your back.  You know, if you need someone to carpet bomb the mansion.  I know a guy at the Hinterlands’ Air Force Base who owes me a favor.”  Cullen half joked, but calling Corporal Vale actually sounded pretty good at the moment.

“You’re just joking.”  Evie slapped his chest once before pulling away.  Her lost warmth created this dark cold void beside Cullen.  His anxiety double just not having her so close.  “You all never came there even as kids.  You _definitely_ wouldn’t want to now.”  Evie slowly pushed herself off the couch and began walking toward her thrown cellphone.

“Oh, I wasn’t joking about being your wingman at the dinner.”

The geologist froze and pivoted on her ballerina foot.  “Oh fuck no!”

Cullen perked a blond eyebrow.  “Why not?”

In a flash, Evie was back on the couch.  Her legs fell beneath her as she bounced on the cushion.  “First, Mia will absolutely kill you.  You missed enough with your own family already.  She is so close to delivering that she would break her water _on your head_ just to punish you!”

Cullen gagged.  “Maker, Eve!”

“Second, I would never put you through that shit!”  Evie hugged herself and rocked on her legs.  Her bright green eyes stared at the grey suede.  Her voice wavered and cracked as her anxiety stirred her emotions.  “I love my brothers.  I like Josephine too.  But Patricia…s-she would see you were sick immediately!  She’s weak right now and is looking for any meat to chew on.  I’m used to it.  I know what words and tactics she will do.  Not you.  You are too important to me to be put through that over a holiday.  Go to Mia’s.  Hang out with your nieces and nephews.  Be where people want you there.  You won’t get that at the mansion.  Rian would stop whatever if it got out of hand, but Patricia is smart.  She knows where and how to poke.  No, I refuse you be exposed to that!”

Cullen knew that woman’ actions.  He met many like Patricia in Kirkwall.  “I am an adult.  I can-“

“What are you going to tell them about retiring from the Order?!”  Evie hollered, her teary eyes flashing up at him and never breaking.  “There are so many small windowless rooms.  What will happen if you have a panic attack?!  I can only protect you so much, Cullen!”

The former knight had enough.  He grasped the freaking woman’s shoulders and held her still.  “That will always be an option.  I recognize that more than ever after you saved me this summer.  Ever since—No!  Since you came to Kirkwall, you have been my supportive wingman.  You changed your career, moved, and heck, gave up _everything_ to help me.  I don’t deserve it, but damn it, I appreciate it with bit of my soul.  I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you, Evie.”

“Don’t say that-“

Cullen put up one finger, shutting her mouth for once.  Still, her flushed cheekbones denoted her fiery and panic.  “This is the first true opportunity to do something for _you!_   Yes, both of us won’t enjoy it, but do you think I could handle Satinalia Eve and Day at my sister’s with screaming children and all that hubbub either?  Yes, Mia will be miffed, but not if you come over there for Satinalia Day dinner.  I will save you from your dysfunctional family if you come and deal with my crazy relatives.”

Evie pouted and hunched her shoulders.  “Your family is actually nice.  But, I have worried about you being there by yourself.  Astrid works that evening, so I know you will be alone for dinner.  You said before I left that Alistair was invited but took the holiday shift that day.  I also haven’t seen your parents in a while…your mother making those macarons?”

Cullen laughed once and shook his head.  “Yes.  I see your sweet tooth lives for Satinalia cookies.”

Evie shoved him.  “Only those macarons.  I’ll need to do yoga for a whole next year to get the weight off, but worth it!”

The tears were gone from her bright green eyes, but Cullen could see Evie still struggled.  Her sassiness was back, her personal feelings buried back down inside her soul.  He wondered if he will hear her again sing or sob like on the back porch tonight.  He was now more attune to every move and expression.  He yearned for answers to return his best friend’s kindness.  Although this dinner will be a nightmare, maybe it will give some insight to the world Evie hid so well from the Pox’s growing up.

“Okay fine.”  Evie blew out her cheeks.  “Maker have mercy on us both.  I better text Josie and tell her there is a plus one.  Gives her the next two days to freak and make everything perfect…”  She stood up again, but stopped before going for her phone again.  “Thank you, Cullen…”

Cullen perked his lip in a smirk, his scarred lip pulling with his rugged facial muscles.  “Remember the knight in shining armor?  It’s about time I guard the dragon instead of always saving the damsel.  Or maybe I’m doing both, but don’t sock me for suggesting you are a weak princess in a high tower.”

Evie kept her attention focused on her fallen cellphone by the backdoor.  Surana stood up from her spot in the recliner and trotted towards the door needing another bathroom break.  To anyone else, they would have missed the mumble, but Cullen’s templar senses caught the mutter.  “If you only knew…”

Evie?  Weak?

The ex-templar shut the mental _pfft_ stirring in his brain.  No, it is best not to assume Evie is strong and unwavering.  He made that mistake for decades.  Under that hostile external is a young woman lost and alone.  Life and depression drove her to drink and forget what laid beyond her reach.  Throughout their childhood, Cullen always assumed Evie was the last person who needed his protection.  Maya and even Astrid were threatened.  Cullen’s protective nature always looked out for them, but his senses never suggested Evie was also in harm’s way.  Now, the blonde former knight figured out how wrong he had been.  Just a few weeks in her constant company demonstrated all that strength and outward emotion guarded pain and suffering that no one ever acknowledged. 

By then, Evie had reached and kneeled over for her cellphone.  She opened the backdoor for Surana, but stayed facing away from Cullen’s watching eyes.  She was holding her breath, trying to hide something.

Then she coughed and touched her throat.

Shame and regret hit Cullen like a ton of bricks.  She never let anyone take a look at it.  By that next morning, Evie acted like nothing happened, but suddenly announced she had a last minute conference to attend.  She repeated nothing was his fault and not to blame himself.  Still, Cullen felt she fled to that conference because of him.  Because of what he did to her.  “How’s it doing?” 

Evie swallowed and turned her body.  Turning her neck was still straining, it seemed.  “Better.  I…it’s yellowing, but I’ll need to buy a turtle neck dress for the dinner.  Scarfs won’t work for so much, but if Rian gets wind of what happened, no matter the explanation, Father will have you dead by midnight.”

Cullen nodded and jumped out of his seat.  “Tell you what:  you come with me to Surana’s vet appointment, and we’ll go that dress shop that Orlesian stylist runs for all those high end arseholes that visit the ruins.  You know, the woman who has all those specialty shops in Val Royeaux.  I buy.”

“No way, Rutherford!”  Evie snapped, trying to build up her fight.  However, she soon deflated.  “Uh jetlag…No fight in me now.  Fine, but I am going cheap then!”

“Absolutely not.” Cullen held up his hands.  “No matter how many times you tell me not blame myself, I still do.  Please, let me do this.  Besides, maybe we can find a Fereldan designer dress that will annoy your sister all evening.”

Evie’s sly smirk intensified with each moment thinking about it.  “Yes…make sure it smells like Surana after a bath.  You know, she can’t go.”

The war hound whined from the cold outside.

“Josie would skin us alive, hound.”  Evie retorted, her hand on the screen door handle.  “Not my choice.”

The mabari whined again.

“We’ll bring you back some leftovers?”  Cullen called from inside the house.

Surana barked happily.

“Pregnancy makes it easy to convince her of anything.”  Her owner remarked with a grin.  “She keeps thinking with her stomach.”  Cullen glanced at his hand, his sandwich suddenly better for his hound or in the compost.  Good ole withdrawal nausea.  Or was it the conversation?

“Is that why you want me to come to the appointment?  So she can hate me more and not you?”

Cullen hid his guilt while taking his half-eaten sandwich to the kitchen.  “Maybe…?”

Evie exhaled and groaned.  “Ugh…You’re getting dinner then.  Warning, I might fall asleep mid-bite.”

“And that’s different from that one time we went to that Starkhaven pub how?”

Evie flipped him off after closing the backdoor behind Surana.  She skipped towards the stairs.  “Starkhaven car bombs, mate.  Besides, Shepard’s Pie looks like a soft vegetable pillow…like smoke streaks off a spaceship blasting off into space.”  Her roommate stood by the island, amber eyes blinking.  Those were three things he never imagined would be placed in the same context.  “Did the plumber come?”

Cullen scrunched his brow further still trying to wrap his head around her previous comment.  Is this same conversation or a brand new one?  _He_ was getting jetlag listening to this woman.  “Plumber?”

By then, Evie was on the first landing, grunting and cussing.  “I have something to yell at your brother-in-law about then!  Satinalia Day might resemble the Eve dinner at this rate.”

“What’s the problem?  Maybe I can fix it.”

Evie twirled around on the landing and huffed.  “It’s his problem.  They did it wrong the first time, and it is their sovereign to fix it right…even if that means no reliable water.  Besides, you cannot replace my bathroom like a few pilsners, Rutherford.  You can be handy, but I think even this job would make you say, ‘I’ll stick to masturbating.’ ”

Cullen glanced over his shoulder at the shelving.  “Noted.”  Somehow he tightened his brow to the point each touch across his forehead.  “Wait.  What?!”

The woman was out of sight, no longer interested in Cullen, who suffered with a throbbing headache trying to follow this conversation.  “Shit.  I forgot my bag.  Sling it up to the second floor landing for me?  You have to get up here and change anyways.  You’ll freeze your nads off in this weather.”

“The Fereldan winter adaption usually applies to those regions too, Eve.”  The roommate mumble, stomping over to Evie’s overturned carryon.  Knowing her, she might have purposefully forgot her bag if it was heavy.  One pull and Cullen groaned.  How did they let her carry this on the airplane?!  Did you bring back a full mine or something?!

Cullen continued detangling his brain around their finished conversation.  Something about Starkhaven plumbers freezing their nuts?  The ex-templar felt a migraine pressing behind his dry eyes.  As he rounded the first landing, Cullen remembered the first rule of being Evie’s friend:  whatever she says in passing usually only makes sense in her mind-

- _Smack!_

Cullen flew backward right as his hand let go of the carryon on the second landing.  He fell on his behind, barely opening his eyes.  Old condom smell filled his nausea-attuned nostrils as gangly haired things danced against his scruffy jaw.  Black, greys, and red lingered in his vision as the most bull-rearing huff filled the staircase.

Oh shit.

Thundering hooves of an already agitated woman hammered down the stairs and tackled him onto the floor.  Evie grabbed the huge rubber spider off Cullen’s face and used it like a bouncing bat against his wincing skull.  “A fucking spider!”  Evie screamed, beating Cullen repeatedly with the oversized rubber prank.  “Fuck all of you!  I am shitting on all your Satinalia presents!  I haven’t slept a good night in months, and you all fucking do this to me!?  I am beating you to death, Rutherford, with this stupid disgusting thing!  ASSHOLE PRICK POX’S! ARGH!” 

As much each slap caused his ears to ring and knowing just hearing the sounds barely escaping his upturned lips will only piss her off more, just knowing it took nearly six months for Evie to find that damn rubber spider was enough to making dying with laughter on that hardwood floor worth it.  Her hollering and yelling awoke the Orlesian ice lady next door, who started banging on the wall.  That only got Surana woofing at the downstairs wall.  All the noise just pissed Evie off more.

Between his cackling and gasps of breaths, all Cullen could whimper in mirth was, “Welcome home!”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you…”

Culled exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.  The prescription migraine medicine only diluted the pain, tinnitus, and light sensitivity.  He might not have a migraine at all if Evie would just drop the prank.  Still, the ex-templar smirked and cackled to himself each time she mumbled her disgust in the truck and now in the vet examination room. 

With an amber flick left, she watched Evie shift left and right in her boots, her hands shoved in jean pockets.  She had changed before they left, choosing leather jacket, v-neck long sleeve cotton shirt, and tight boot-leg jeans for their multiple errands.  A ram-sheered wool scarf hung tightly around her neck to cover the yellow bruise still pronounced.  Matching dangling amber earrings matched her large teardrop pendant stuffed into the shirt.

His best friend’s face was taut and tensed.  Evie scrunched her nose into her scarf as the prank boiled her blood.  Hushed mutters rumbled from her pink lips coated with lip balm.  She had half-hazarded braided parts of her hair and tied it back to a braided bun.  However, one braid laid below her ear accenting her attached lobes still cold from the frigid air outside.  Her iconic cat eye markup she hastily put on just made her bright green eyes glow and reflect her fiery.

Maker, she’s beautiful so miffed and expressive.

Cullen’s amber eyes flicked back to the examination table where Surana sat and dozed.  Where in the blue fuck did that come from?!  Cullen cleared his throat while running his hand through his tossed hair.  His palm landed on his neck and massaged the tensed muscles.  Yes, Evie is beautiful.  He has known that forever.  It was just the _content_ and _longing_ emotion that welled up his throat and wrapped around his heart that threw him into a titter.  It felt so disrespectful and wrong, but oh so right. 

Shoving his hands into his hoodies front attached pockets, the man dismissed the feelings.  So what if he wanted to rub her ears to warm them.  That was being a good friend.  What was not a friendly gesture was the underlining urge to use his warm breath instead while whispering his apology.  Yes, he should feel absolutely awful for ringing her neck almost two weeks ago, but should not have the urge to pull off the scarf and kiss his chapped lips along that fading bruise.  No, Rutherford, do not attempt to press her against the wall they used instead the provided hard plastic chairs in the corner with his body and hold her close like when she sat cuddled against his side.

It was happening again.

Cullen thumped his head against the wall.  He still could not shake his old habits.  Yes, it had been over a year since he got laid, but he vowed after Bethany to not use women and sex as a method to forget the past.  Part of his atonement for his many prejudices and actions included a form of intimacy restriction.  To get over lyrium required him to focus on himself and not just use another potential addiction to push through the pain or forget everything.

Warily, the ex-knight glanced back at his friend.  Still, Evie’s eyes stared forward, but now her fiery dissipated.  She bit her partly covered lips with her front teeth, deep in thought about something other than the prank.  Whatever it was, a deep sorrow shined from the dulling irises.  Evie probably was thinking about the dinner again.

No, Evie will never be used by anyone again and that included Cullen.  Even if Cullen needed to get laid, Pox’s rules prohibit it, even if a casual release.  Besides, Evie does not sleep with anyone she does not love.  Cullen wrinkled his nose.  Still, she was in love _with_ someone.  The bastard arsehole should burn with a sharp pike up his rectum.  Cullen adjusted himself as his own anus reacted to the slur.

Focus on her, Cullen.  You swore to support her, yet you just gazed at her like a good fuck.  You will never change, you fucking monster.

_Nudge._

Cullen’s whiskey orbs snapped to Evie, who continued to chew on her lip, but her elbow slowly left his side.  She probably saw him scowling.  He flipped his elbow against her side, barely missing her breast because their height difference.  Evie took out a hand and shoved him in the bicep.  Her push was not hard, just enough to wave him to the right.  Cullen used his elbow again, kneeled a little to really nail her right side.  Evie threw him a look of fiery.  Both hands were out and shoved him in the hip to the point Cullen almost fell into the medical sink.  Oh, that was how it was going to be.  Cullen pivoted, picked her up at the hip, and jokily tossed her into the plastic chairs.

“Oh, hell no!”  Evie grunted as she glared up at him when her bum smacked the chair seat.  Cullen just smirked with his scarred lip.  The fury burned in her bright green eyes.  She lunged forward onto his back and shoulders, slinging them both into the tiled floor. 

Cullen burst out laughing as he struggled to grab her flailing arms.  With a quick roll, he grabbed her hip and tackled her to the floor.  Both adults burst out laughing as the wrestling got intense and rough.  It was like when they were kids.  It usually started with Nate jumping into a mud puddle.  By the end of it, the only clean Pox’s were Maya and Astrid.  Maya threw a few mud pies at the rolling teens, while Astrid was developing a plan to wash up before the dinner bell.

“ _Simpler times.  Miss those days walking home with wet shoes and muddy hair._ ”

Cullen and Evie froze on the floor.  Neither had heard the examination room door open.  Standing at the door was a skinny young man, no older than twenty-five with bleach blond hair and a floppy straw brown hat, his signature feature.  Quickly, the Pox’s jumped to their feet and coughed away their embarrassment.

The man tilted his head to the side, blinking.  His eyes were icy cold blue, but reached out to anyone willing to listen to his ramblings.  “Why stop?  It made you happy.”

Evie threw the man a look before stomping to an overturned plastic hair, setting it right, and flopping down.  Once again, her hands slipped into her pockets.  Her face turned to the wall to avoid anyone seeing her blushed features.

Cullen approached where Surana laid with an ear and eye perked his direction.  It was her way of saying, _Yeah, I have to agree with the doctor_.  He rolled his whiskey eyes and exhaled.  His hand naturally rubbed his neck and shoulders.  “Let’s get started, Doc.”

Dr. Cole Pierce was the only town veterinarian within fifty miles.  He graduated his studies early compared with other animal doctors.  People whispered he could read minds, especially animals who always settled and appreciated his presence.  He was known for busting out with people’s thoughts, usually ones they would rather not have an audience.  What he said in his somber ghost voice entering the room could have been either Evie or Cullen’s reactions to the wrestle match.  Cullen smirked that both of their minds went to simpler times of friendship and fun.  After the last week, they both needed easier moments, to be kids again instead of addicts haunted by their demons.

“You can heal each other.  The demons don’t reach you when she’s nearby.”  Cole replied, looking up from the war hound relaxing to the doctor’s massages.  His voice was low enough that Evie did not overheard the advice.

Cullen wrinkled his nose.  Oh his migraine was boiling now.  “Let’s get started _without_ commentary please, _Doc_!”

Cole caught the curse in Cullen’s baritone voice.  “Okay.  Just know, the box has all the answers.  It is her world, life—the secrets you never knew—but also her greatest fears.  Follow it.”

The ex-templar froze.  Once the initial shock of the doctor’s advice settled in his soul, Cullen’s amber eyes watched the veterinarian examine his mabari closely like he never spoke since arriving.  With a fearful hitch, the knight looked over his shoulder.   Evie still stared at the wall, her eyes dull.  Even the bright green contacts could not lift whatever burdened her.

That damn wooden box.

If Cole was right, Cullen finally found his starting point to understand her.

Now that Satinalia Eve dinner was more important to Cullen than anything ever before.


End file.
